


The Mind Palace Collection

by dreykar



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BAMF!John, Drabble, Drabble Collection, Gen, Headcanon, How Sherlock got The Skull, Jim in public acting normal, John caring for Sherlock, Lestrade and Mycroft interact, Mycroft Being Mycroft, One Shot, Sherlock meeting Mrs Hudson, Sick!Sherlock, between scenes, birthday!John, sleepdepreivedhallucinating!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2013-02-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 14:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 26,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreykar/pseuds/dreykar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of various drabbles, headcanon and one-shots including: character studies, relationships, past events, moments between scenes and everything in between.  Last few chapters have been 2000+ word one shots.  Why not give it a try?  Currently taking requests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The PA and the Brother

**Author's Note:**

> The first few chapters are more character studies while from Chapter 7 they are full blown one shots around 1000-2000 words.
> 
> I hope you enjoy :)

Sherlock and ‘Anthea’ have a mutual respect for one another.  Sherlock highly regards the fact that she is able to keep his brother organised and in check which should be near impossible with his personality and all the things he has going on.  Also, he has seen what she can do to a man with only a hard kick, a stiletto heel and a hair clip.

‘Anthea’ admires the consulting detective for his intelligence.  Also if her boss, a man she respects so deeply, can spend so many resources and emotional energy on keeping him safe he must have some redeeming features and be part of the greater good, no matter his methods.  She has also seen that he can do real good in the world when he puts his mind to it.

They express their positive feelings for each other by providing snark and sarcastic comments from one corner and from the other, small easy sentences and knowing smirks like he is being adorable.  She knows it really gets to him when he’s treated like a child.

Mycroft stays out of all of this but secretly approves, believing it is good for both of them.  However, sometimes he can’t help the small smile and nod at his assistant when she manages to silence his brother with a look.  Not many people have the skill to do that.


	2. Rich

Sherlock was irritated and also a little disappointed when John innocently asked Henry Knight if he was rich.  He didn’t dwell on it for long but he had assumed that John would be above such a redundant question.

Obviously he was rich, the detective could give his doctor the first sixteen deductions that led him to form this conclusion if he wanted to hear them.  Most had been formed before they’d even made it into the house!

But the thing that really got to him was that with this new data in mind, what would John think if he knew his background?  Surely John would have already gathered that he’d come from a bit of money?  Not that it mattered, it is the  _work_  that matters.  Money was just something that allowed him the freedom to do what was most important.  But what would the ex-army man say if he knew that the manor the Holmes boys grew up in was at least six times the size of Henry Knight’s for a start?

He didn’t have time to think about it for long before they were in the kitchen and moving forward with the case.  He thought of it again once between cases and decided to bring it up with John who again said it was “all fine”.  He didn’t show it, but a part of Sherlock relaxed at the reassurance.


	3. The Therapist and The Doctor

John's therapist Ella once saw her ex-patient and his detective friend leave a Chinese take away on a post case high, in fact it was their first case together.  Unseen from a table on the footpath a few shops down, she saw the familiar doctor step out the doorway as he listened with rapt attention to a tall brunet who was taking one stride for the smaller man's one and a half.  This allowed him to catch up to start talking and laughing himself which he seemed to do naturally. It took a moment to click that this stroll was cane free.  
  
It told her that sometimes it doesn't matter what you say but instead that you talk when you need to. It also took the right person to get the conversation going and a special person to have it continue.  
  
She was happy for him and mentally wished him luck.


	4. The Gun

Sherlock was fond of letting Lestrade, and anyone within earshot, know that he was an idiot. It usually tied seamlessly into a one way conversation about how everyone is stupid and it is unbelievable that people manage to get around their day to day lives with such a lack of brain power.  
  
Be that as it may, it didn't take long for Lestrade to figure out exactly who had killed the cabbie serial killer. From the first description Sherlock had provided to the widening of the younger man's eyes as they settled on the doctor who Greg had only seen for the first time that day, he'd only be an idiot if he ignored these signs.  If you knew the consulting detective it wasn't hard to put two and two together and being a DI with his many years of experience didn't go astray either.  
  
Keeping all this in mind Greg was never more thankful for his choice to keep his discovery to himself as they stood and fired at the Baskerville Hound. It was there the greying man saw, and appreciated, the aim of a trained soldier.

An hour of so later, coming down from the fear drug, he felt that the pint he bought John back at the Cross Keys was the most well earned drink in recent history. He knew then that this particular secret was one worth keeping for the greater good, even if it did go against some of the things he stood for.  Sometimes safety was more important than abiding by the rules.


	5. Understanding Past Emotions

It took at least a year for John to understand the touch of vulnerability and care that Sherlock had displayed around Sebastian Wilkes on the second case they had undertaken together.  It's not that he didn't pick up on it, it's just that it took a while for him to understand how meaningful the little flickers of emotion from his friend were.  At the time he hadn't known him well enough to gather that the small signs or the discomfort at his old fellow student's words were not usually shown on his face.

The doctor realised far too late that Sherlock was concerned that he would make fun of him or just run away when the banker explained what everyone used to think of him.  John wanted to tell him that he was an idiot if he thought that the words of that man would sway him.  He assumed he'd been clear with his "I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards" comment in relation to his feelings on the university acquaintance.  

There were the hints at bullying and emotional exclusion of the past "we all hated him", but all of that just seemed to slide off Sherlock. It's easy to claim that that sort of thing doesn't bother you when you're a self proclaimed sociopath, but John eventually understood that those opinions and actions of others had shaped the man they saw before him even if he felt a majority of the comments had never got to him and hadn't mattered.

Sherlock isn't weak but he was shaped by the harsh comments and criticism over time relating to how his brain works and how he chooses to communicate what his mind offers. John has been able to help him gain strength and perspective and together they are stronger as people.


	6. Children

Many people assume that Sherlock wouldn’t get on well with children. They believe that he would be unforgiving of their lack of knowledge, that he would physically tower over them whilst treating them like dim witted adults and would have no time for the sorts of activities they get up to on a daily basis.  
  
Those assumptions couldn’t be further from the truth. He is drawn to their unending curiosity about the things going on in their world. He also still shares their drive for new knowledge and finding out how things relate to each other.   
  
The young ones also have a refreshing lack of preconceived notions and many have no brain to mouth filter which makes them excellent sources of honest information. They will tell you what they really think and will explain what happened without hiding embarrassing details.  Usually at quite a loud volume.  On a case they are invaluable as they see things that are often hidden by a grown-up’s tunnel vision and certainty that they are right.

The detective often spends time chatting with homeless kids in the area, about what is going on in their lives and world. These are vulnerable beings that frequently do not have a lot of people to speak to them, to support them.

He may not want children for himself but that doesn’t mean he can’t relate to them. Like everyone, he was a child once too.  Although this is sometimes conveniently forgotten.


	7. The Skull

"That's a skull"

"A friend of mine, well I say friend..."

In the first year of university Sherlock had expected that the people around him would be more open to his way of thinking and interests than the boys at high school, but once he arrived he found that most were just like the kids he used to have classes with.  Mostly they would either give him a wide berth or give him  _that look_ which wasoften accompanied by a 'piss off'.  It didn't matter, he liked being alone.  But it did help him to talk out loud when doing his own experiments, however talking to himself often attracted attention.

Working back late in one of the labs one of his tutors, who he got on with better than most, had been cleaning out an old store room and had a pile of rubbish to go out.  Most were out of date textbooks, piles of papers, folders and the like.  But one box had some old animal skeletons and things.

"Staying back late again, Holmes?"  Professor Menzies queried, brushing some dust from his tweed jacket.

"Yes, your lecture on the different uses of magnesium had me curious to see if I could develop any more.  Or at least be able to find ways to use the alkaline metal in a more practical ways" he hadn't looked away from the test tube he was holding up high as he mixed in some clear liquid from a measured dropper.

The teacher had a strong look of pride on his face.  "You do realise what the time is don't you?"

"Well I came in at eleven to... _oh_ " he said in surprise, noticing it was almost eleven at night.  "Time slipped away again, I-.  That's a skull" he noted in reference to the object in his teachers arms.

"Yes, this one has been around the campus for years, we've got a few replacements so it's retirement time for him"

"It's hard to get real skulls" the thin man commented, sounding as though he knew from first hand experience.   "I find them fascinating".

The ageing man seem to come to a conclusion.  "You know, Holmes, it's a bit late for an old man like me to be here tonight.  I think I'll clean the rest of things out in the morning".  He placed the skull on the boxes facing Sherlock.  "I'll just leave this guy here.  I'll have to make a few calls in the morning to get it disposed of correctly.  It's a shame it couldn't just...disappear.  A lot less work for me" his eyes twinkled behind his glasses for a moment as his gave his student a meaningful look.  "Well goodnight, Holmes.  We have that test on Thursday so do try to get a good sleep tonight".

"Thank you, Sir.  Goodnight".  Once the door clicked shut, Sherlock's eyes snapped to the item on the box from the beaker in his right hand.  He made his way over with purpose and bent at the waist, hands in pockets, so that he was eye level with the empty sockets and about four inches in front.  "Hello" he said, as though the bone was expecting him to speak first and he was happy to oblige.  "Pleased to meet you.  I work better when I talk out loud and I'd appreciate it if you'd join me over this side of the room".  He straightened and tucked his new friend under his right arm, looking down at it to continue.  "I've made two remarkable findings when using magnesium in a way I don't think anyone has before, at least I haven't found any evidence of it in the eleven books I've read so far.  Mrs. Dobson from the library said..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear if you prefer this sort of format with dialogue or like the previous chapters without the dialogue. Thanks for reading :)


	8. Playing Ordinary

Jim Moriarty loves to play different characters.  He'll sometimes go for a walk in the middle of the day, out into the hustle and bustle of the London streets after either a long night or morning of business.  He works at his office alone, no one goes in, no one goes out.  In fact, if it weren't for these walks he really wouldn't see anyone face to face for long stretches of time.  The internet has been a lovely invention that makes murders and crime such a cinch.  If they didn't want it used for that then they shouldn't have made it so suited he often thinks or tells himself out loud in his empty room.

On his walks he will sometimes dress for the part or just wear his regular clothes and see how much he can get away with with just playing the role.  From being a lost tourist wanting to know where landmarks are "Sorry, Sir, yes hi.  I'm just wondering where the Tower of London is?  I'm afraid I've got myself a bit lost.  Am I close?".  To asking elderly ladies where the closest cafe is "Oh, you're too kind, no I'd like to meet a friend there but if I see you again I'll take you up on that offer for a quiet cup at your flat, Mrs. Thompson.  Well lovely to have met you!".  Or if he's feeling adventurous he'll start up a conversation with someone about things in the paper that they're reading.  He usually does this when he gets the tube to go people watching.  This time it's a young blonde who keeps smiling at him as he sits across from her during peak hour.  "Yes, I saw that on the news last night.  Strange hat he's wearing?  I like the pattern.  Do you think it would suit me if I bought one?  If I wore it could I look as good as him?".

These good, everyday people don't know the danger they've just avoided.  It's amazing how trusting people are if you smile, are polite and act like you're one of the lobotomised masses.  It's a shame he doesn't always get to mingle with people who are close to his intelligence but there aren't too many of them around.  He sees Dear Sherlock as a bit like a loose tooth, it feels good to play with it, push it around, but do it too much and it falls out of your mouth.  Falls, there's something in that, he notes. He has always broken his favourite things.

As he reaches his train stop he sees a man on the platform that he knows he's seen four times in the last week.  Oh dear, Mr. Holmes, you're making it too easy to spot your eyes and ears of the world.  He considers texting this but instead dips his hat at the spy as he goes past.  He allows himself a bit of a giggle as the man puts down his newspaper prop and reaches for his mobile phone.  Jim has already disappeared into the crowd.  It's time to go back to work in his windowless office, he'll come out again in a few days time.


	9. When the Lights Go Out

The first time John came home to find Sherlock had passed out after a case was not long after the Blind Banker fiasco.  The last he'd seen of Sherlock he'd been running out of the flat yelling about the woman's sister, the lack of necklace on the cousin and several exclamations about his own stupidity.  A usual day at 221b, in other words.

Later that day once John had returned from Sarah's house after dinner (apparently kipping on the end of her bed still wasn't an option) he found all the lights off in the flat and so assumed his flatmate wasn't back yet.  Again, something not untoward at their residence.  He stepped through the door, put the kettle on to boil then stepped into the main area.  That's when he noticed that the great consulting detective was not so gracefully sprawled out on his stomach on the couch, dead to the world.  One arm was up and hanging over the armrest and the other had dropped to the floor.  His legs were in the same position.  His pale face was turned so he could have been watching the TV if it were on, mouth open, eyes closed and snuffling softly in his deep slumber.

John gave himself a small, indulgent smile at the sight.  He'd been go-go-go and now had dropped like a toddler, fully clothed and exhausted.  He took the checked blanket from 'his' armchair and gently draped it over the brunet, careful not to wake him.  Quietly he went back to the kitchen, made himself a cuppa and headed off to his room to get ready for bed.  The next day nothing was said but it became a ritual of theirs that anytime Sherlock dropped, John would be there to get him comfortable and in the best position to  comply with the 'tedious' demands of his transport.

It was around this time that another habit began between the two of them.  Sherlock couldn't place the exact moment when he had thought it was a good idea, but these days he often found himself upstairs when John was asleep, sometimes sitting on the chair near his friend's bed or at other times just standing there, watching.  He liked to be in John's presence as it helped order his thoughts.  It was amazing, not only did Sherlock not have to talk but John didn't even have to be conscious to be a conductor of light!  Many a time the detective would be bringing various sections of his mind palace into order while John would sleep on, none the wiser.  And it was  _easier,_ things just dropped into place with less work around this man. Other times he would sit there mulling over data as he watched the slack lines of John's face as his chest gently rose and fell in a steady rhythm.  

The tall one didn't know if it was a bit not good to do this so he didn't ask.  To be honest he had his suspicions but he really didn't want to know the truth.  

A couple of times John found his door either open or closed when he woke in the mornings and he would swear he had left it the other way around when he retired for the night.  He had his theories about what had happened but he wanted to be sure before he brought it up with his friend.  In the meantime, past the sections of his brain that knew it was very weird, through the areas that knew he should be angry and perhaps concerned for his well being and privacy, was a place in his mind that felt content with the knowledge that he was important and was able to be of use even if he wasn't really doing anything else.  

This was one of those things he would keep between the two of them for now, he didn't think anyone else would understand and really, it was nice to have some things just between the two of them.


	10. The Assassins

Sherlock took quite a while to inform John about the Sikh Warrior who was sent in regards to the Jaria Diamond case.  He delayed telling his friend about the situation straight away as he was in a mood after having a row with a chip and pin machine.  Seeing John's left fist open and close as it did whenever he was experiencing stress or pushing down his rage, it didn't really feel like the right time to mention that a trained fighter had just broken in resulting in the detective utilising his Bartitsu and ultimately sending them a message.  

He also failed to mention the assassin in Soo Lin's flat soon after, that one was just embarrassing.  He realised his mistake though after John and Sarah were kidnapped by the Black Lotus and that's when he made a note in his hard drive that a bit of warning when he was being followed never went astray.  Better John go off on one of his rants on 'safety' and 'not baiting criminals' than being taken.  Again.  Truth be told he was still getting used to working with someone and having them around on a regular basis.

Even though he meant to communicate more swiftly on these matters he ended up delaying mentioning the next three times after that that an assailant was after him.  There was that one time in an alley with a thief he was pursuing, another time in a park about a racketeering group and the final one near the Diogenes.  The last didn't end well for the assassin when four men in black suits bundled him away in the back on a non-descript van about thirty seconds after he had started wrestling with the consulting detective.

Five minutes later the younger Holmes stepped into the Strangers Room at the Diogenes and closed the door.  He'd waited until his breathing had returned to normal and he'd had a chance to straighten his clothes and make sure he wasn't bleeding before going in.  Looking over he saw his idle brother turning a page in some notes without looking up.  Sherlock sighed, tugging off his scarf before placing it on a coat rack.  "Well don't get up" he tutted, tugging of his gloves, his brother's laziness was such a waste.

The seated one continued to ensure the file was in order.  "Third attempt on your life in as many months" he noted casually, with an air of discussing sporting statistics.  "You may end up surpassing my 2009 tally, although I believe I would still win due to the exotic mix of nations that attempted to bring about my demise that particular year".  He finally gazed over and gave a painfully tight grimace that did nothing to endear him to the other.  "Do sit down" he instructed, indicating to an armchair opposite him "we have much to discuss".

Sherlock paused, not wanting to be told what to do but then decided to move across and be seated.  "I was fine by the way, you didn't need to send in your drones" he tried to sound uncaring but it came across more like he was convincing himself that he wasn't in any real danger.

Amusement flashed on the elder man's features before it was pushed aside.  "Yes, I could tell by the way your face was turning a dark shade as your air supply was cut off and the way your eyes were beginning to roll back that you had it completely under control".  He then nodded to himself.  "But I must thank you for drawing out Jerry Watkins, we've been after him for weeks.  Knew he was in London, just a matter of time" he held up the file, as he did so Sherlock tried to hide the bright interest he held for it from his gaze but failed. "Let's consider this your reward, shall we?"

"Just get on with it, Mycroft" he snapped, trying to sound more frustrated than pleading "you should be thankful I made my way down here, should have made you go to Baker Street for the exercise"

"Interesting problem, this" he began, knowing he had one the game as soon as the body jibes began.  "The notes start as far back as fifteen years ago..."


	11. John's Dream Day Off

John's favourite days off are the ones where he doesn't get a call from the clinic asking him to come in as another doctor has called in sick or there has been an emergency.

Ones where when he goes off to run errands, whether shopping or paying bills, and doesn't find himself in the back of a black luxury car wondering what the 'minor official' has to ask him today.

He likes it when he can give Mrs. Hudson a friendly hello on his way out the door rather than her coming up to inform the two of them what will be added to the rent that week due to 'experiments' and 'boredom'.  He briefly wonders what would happen to him if he began to think it was normal to nail a severed hand to the inside of a cupboard to see how quickly a third party would notice the smell.  (Incidentally, it took two days and it was a plumber who found it.  At least they got the job done for free after the man took off, although the look on Greg's face when he arrived quickly put a dampener on that).

Even though he won't lie in for long, he prefers to get up on his own terms rather than being woken early by:

  * Disjointed violin.  In fact, any violin
  * Loud noises (including: explosions, gunfire and yelling)
  * Sherlock telling him they have a case and to get up as he's had at least three hours sleep and not to be lazy like his brother
  * Early morning drugs busts (usually after they've been out late on a case and have evidence they shouldn't)
  * Eerie calm, that can be worse than all of them put together and often just as dangerous



But John can admit to himself that these little things are what make his life interesting, that keep away the cane and have him jumping out of bed in the morning with purpose.  They may be the things he dreams of when planning a day off but for every other day of the month he wouldn't have it any other way.


	12. When Genius Needs Support

" _Knots_ " Sherlock breathes suddenly, gasping at the physical and mental jolt that occurs when the solution finally clicks in his mind. He is sitting on the couch with his arms wrapped around his legs, holding on tightly.

"What's up? Sherlock? Worked something out?"

The brunet flicks his head over towards the source of the sound to find his doctor sitting at the table in the living area, two pointed fingers hovering over the keys of his laptop. "Shoe laces. The  _laces_ , John! They weren't tied from behind, someone did the knot from the front. We need to see the feet again. I  _knew_ there was something! Stupid! It wasn't the brother at all!"

"Ah, right. Well Molly is doing the autopsy in the morning, we should get in touch-" he cuts himself off as Sherlock holds his phone out to his general direction without any comment, expectation hangs heavy in the room.

John stands stiffly and pauses, letting out a controlled breath before walking over and taking the proffered item. "Tell her we'll be there at 7:30am and that we need to focus on the feet. Look for any injection marks and for damage around the left big toe". He stands too quickly and wobbles on his feet. He feels John grab him around the arm to steady him but he pushes him off, stumbling a little more before regaining his balance. He's fine why would- oh, it's dark outside. He looks John up and down, gazes over to the table and sees that his flatmate has had his dinner. Before he can say something John clarifies the situation.

"You haven't moved in six hours, no wonder your legs are jelly, not that you'd admit that they are. This case has been going on for the last two days and you've been ignoring your body more than usual. You had the other case for four days before this one with about two hours break in between. You haven't slept in days, three I think, and I haven't seen you eat but you must had had something. I'm worried. Frankly I'll be happy when this whole thing is over. Do want some tea? You need water, when was the last time you had some? You look a bit jumpy-"

"-the toe" he murmurs and takes a few steps forward, holding his hand up for John to be quiet. He'd heard what had been said but that wasn't important right now. The older man takes the opportunity to start the text to Molly while Sherlock keeps working this out in the silence he obviously needs.

The room disappears from the detective's vision as he sees in his minds eye some possible tissue damage under the left big toe. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He tries to focus on the image and spends some time going over the crime scene again. "John, what did Molly say? She needs to look  _carefully._ Better than she did with the Harper case, I still haven't forgotten. Did you get that down?". He turns sharply and finds himself face to face with DI Lestrade. "Where's John?" he asks with a slight hint of vulnerability, his body sagging a bit as his eyes flick around.

The greying policeman looks as though he is working up the strength to be clear and somewhat gentle. John must have worded him up on something as soon as he arrived. "Getting changed. We've found another body, looks like the same MO as the Denyson murder. Thought you'd want to come and take a look. John just mentioned that we need to have a look at the other body again, says you've got a lead"

"Yes, the feet. I don't know why I didn't- why are you holding that glass of water?" he asks in one long stream.

At this Lestrade extends his arm with a hint of embarrassment. "Ah, John said that um. Said you're not to leave the flat until you've, you know, had a glass".

The brunet waves a pale hand at the crockery which is moved out of the way just in time not to be knocked to the floor. "Ridiculous! I am  _not_ a child. Going by brain power  _you_  are all children in relation to me. All I need is my coat and scarf. Period". At this he walks over to the back of the door and begins to put on these items of clothing. As soon as he finishes the other resident steps into the room.

"Ok, I'm right Greg. Jesus, you'd think they'd keep these things to a more reasonable hour for the likes of you and me, hey? 3am".

Sherlock looks down his long nose at John before stating icily "If you've finished wasting time, John, we have a cab to hail"

The smaller man seemed completely unintimidated. "Not until you've had some water. Doctor's orders"

"We're  _leaving_ , I can look after myself. I do not require micromanagement!"

John steps forward with purpose, tone firm. "We'll leave after you've had some water. You sat there for over six hours without moving! Then you've been pacing around here for a fair chunk of time and don't get me started about the fact you've barely stopped in a whole six days. I don't think you'd even realised I'd gone upstairs or that Greg had arrived. You haven't eaten in 48 hours at least but I suspect it's more. If you want to go, have the water then we'll get moving. Otherwise Greg will have to have a look at the body by himself. I'm not above cuffing you to something here until you sleep. Doctor  _and_ soldier remember. I'll look after you but I'm happy to be creatively resourceful to do that".

Sherlock had an ugly look on his face, he eyeballed the blond who returned the ferocity of the stare with added interest. This man was infuriating, Sherlock thought. He should be angry with him for getting in the way, he's preventing The Work! But a part of him knew that he was right and one drink wouldn't take long and they could get going. Once this case was over he needed to update his Mind Palace with more John Watson information. He truly was the most intriguing puzzle.

In the end the detective snatched the glass that was being held out to him, spilling a bit onto the rug. He gulped the water down, realising blatantly that he was in fact thirsty but he wouldn't give either of the men the satisfaction of that knowledge. He threw the item onto one of the armchairs. "Well come on!" he snaps as he rushes down the staircase, itching to get out there and away from any smug expressions that could arise.

"Sometimes I wonder if you were sent down to protect him. And I'm not even religious" Greg admits with respectful look which gives way to one of humour. After all the things he'd seen with Sherlock over the years he can't believe that finally he is accepting some advice and assistance especially in regards to his health.

The shorter man is about to respond when they hear "Hurry, John!" called up the stairs with gusto.

"There's my cue" John remarks, with a satisfied smile. "Don't worry" he reassures with a small nod "I'm looking after him".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for reading. These drabbles seem to be getting bigger! I'm happy to take requests for this story if you have something that you'd like to read. Comments/feedback are appreciated :)


	13. MH Phone Contact w/ JM-Official Records

**23/03/10 10:01am Unknown Number**

Sorry Big Brother, Little Brother is too busy with my puzzle.

Try back later. 221b, such a mess. Bombs do that, I suppose.

 

.

**23/03/10 10:08am Outgoing to A**

A, have the last text traced

MH

 

.

**23/03/10 10:09pm A**

Already underway, Sir.

A

 

.

**24/03/10 3:37am Unknown Number**

How's the Korean situation, Mr Holmes?

Better than your tooth? Still at the office, I see.

You work almost as hard as I do. Does that make us alike?

 

.

**10/08/10 4 **:01am Unknown Number****

Hat-man and Robin. My new favourite super heroes.

They're looking at me from my wall,

I could stare at them for hours.

I've been telling them how good they look. Like models. Dolls.

 

.

**10/08/10 4 **:03am Unknown Number****

Maybe I should go out and play with the real thing instead?

Are you going to stop me?

 

.

**13/9/10 6:01pm Unknown Number**

It must be my birthday, little Sherlock

in nothing but a bed sheet! Should I read him

a bedtime story? I do like stories. Fairytales.

 

.

**22/11/10 7:31pm Unknown Number**

That speech in parliament today had your

signatures all over it. Do people know how

much you control?

 

.

**22/11/10 7:41pm Unknown Number**

Secretly I'm impressed but you don't intrigue

me as much as Junior. He's more my type.

I like to tell him that. He's out with Johnny boy

right now. Dinner at Angelo's. Did you know?

 

.

**16/12/10 2:08pm Unknown Number**

Saw little brother at the shops arguing with Santa Claus!

Read it here first! He didn't see me. Your spy did though.

Should I cut out his tongue so he won't

be able to tell you where I am again?

 

.

**18/12/10 4:13pm Unknown Number**

It's rude for your people to keep watching me

without saying hello. They could wish me

a Merry Christmas at the very least.

 

.

**18/12/10 4:16pm Unknown Number**

Or maybe I can go and wish your mother a

Happy Christmas? She's meant to stay with you

for Christmas, yes?

 

.

**15/01/11 9:18pm Unknown Number**

A client, Simon Ray Ward, mentioned you

today. Worked for the transport department.

I had his throat slit. You're welcome.

Might want to investigate how he knew you.

You're not allowed to exit the game yet.

I won't let it happen until I'm finished with you.

 

.

**27/02/11 3:36pm Unknown Number**

Jumbo Jet. Dear me, Mr Holmes, dear me.

 

.

**28/02/11 11:00am Unknown Number**

Such a shame, I put a lot of effort into Ms. Adler's demands.

Did you recognise my work? Sherlock would have.

He likes to follow my work. Likes my art. My stories.

 

.

**28/02/11 **11:06am Outgoing****

Are you really this desperate for attention, James?

A meeting can be arranged.

MH

 

.

**28/02/11 **11:08am Unknown Number****

He replies! I was beginning to think you're as lazy as

your brother says. What could The Iceman want with me?

 

.

**12/03/11 11 **:45pm Unknown Number****

You're going to be part of the final story, Mr Holmes,

do you want to know how it ends?

 

.

**13/03/11 ** **10:01am**** Outgoing**

You can tell me in person. See you soon, James.

MH

 

.

**13/06/11 ** **11:26am Unknown Number******

You know, it's all happening. Are you going

to stop me, Oh Great Leader?

Are you going to protect him?

 

.

**14/06/11 5:46am Unknown Number**

You make me sick. I'm so bored, so bored.

It's nearly all over and it's too easy!

It was meant to be better, so much better. Much better.

Heart of ice but you'll miss him.

 

.

**14/06/11 7:41am Unknown Number**

WEAK. YOU'RE SO WEAK. SO ORDINARY.

COULDN'T MAKE ME DO A THING.

KNOW TO YOUR DYING DAY YOU COULDN'T

DO A THING TO PREVENT IT. I'M SO DISAPPOINTED!

THE FINAL PROBLEM WILL BE OVER IN LESS THAN

AN HOUR. I BEAT YOU, I BEAT ALL OF YOU!

NO CHALLENGE.

 

.

**14/06/11 7:46am Unknown Number**

DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHTAT THE FINAL PROBLEM IS YET?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many of the dates are given from John's Blog which you can find online.
> 
> This is something a bit different that I thought I would try. Would love some feedback.


	14. Meeting Mrs. Hudson

It took Martha Hudson all of ten seconds to realise that in her own terms Sherlock Holmes was a very special boy. Over time there were many other adjectives added to this, a large proportion not so complimentary. But that was her first impression of him: unique, frightfully smart and, although he would deny it, awkwardly adorable if you caught him at the right moment.

A few years before the young man moved into her flat 'b' she was in the situation where her husband had left again and had taken himself to Florida. She knew this as he'd called, said he was in a bit of trouble and needed her to fly over to help pay for a large legal defence team. She tried to get the details from him over the phone but he had explained that there would be some information faxed through and she was to look over it.

Martha felt as though she didn't have much of a choice. They had been through a lot together over the years and even though there were more down times than up in the last half decade, her mother had always told her that family was all we have in the end and she had enough life experience to know that this was the case. However, the older lady had a feeling something strange was going on. It didn't help that he hadn't mentioned once that he was innocent.

Being an intelligent woman the ex-boys accommodation worker was able to work out the general idea from the papers that were placed out in front of her on the clothed kitchen table. But no matter how much she could derive from the police reports she did realise that this area of the law was not something that she had a lot of experience in and noted that she needed help to understand what was really going on.

And so Mrs. Hudson found herself in a situation where a friend recommended someone calling himself a 'consulting detective' who'd gone to university with Jane from down the road's son, Scott. He'd apparently been solving crimes as a hobby and was now working with Scotland Yard on occasion.

Feeling as though she couldn't lose anything she had Scott organise a meeting before she was due to fly out to America. At around 11am she had the kettle boiled, a freshly baked slice prepared and some papers, photos and the like all set out and ready to go through. Scott had said this Shar-Shir- _Sherlock_  liked all the information to be presented to him. He'd also said he was a bit 'eccentric' so she was prepared for that. Being her age and with her life experiences she'd seen a lot in her time and nothing surprised her anymore.

However, she couldn't escape the fact that she was quite worried about what was going on with Roger, her husband. There may be no love left, he may have done some awful things in the past to her and others, but she had to sort this out. It was her duty.

At about two minutes to eleven there was a strong rap at the entrance of the flat. Punctual, that was a good start. She opened the door to see a tall and frightfully pale and thin twentysomething boy there, shivering. He had dark curls (shorter at the sides, longer on top) and cheekbones that seemed too big for his face. The skin around them seemed a little sunken and made his cheeks appear more hollow than could possibly be healthy. His eyes were a bright, fair blue but were shadowed with purple. He wore dark jeans, a navy button up that was mostly covered with a threading grey v-neck knit jumper. Over the top he had a dark brown jacket but he must be freezing, she realised, he wasn't dressed for the weather at all. It was like he'd thrown the outfit together more for its structure than the colours. He looked like a student even though he'd graduated a couple of years back. The pieces seemed to be from then or earlier.

"Do you mind if I come in?" he said in a deeper voice than expected, teeth almost chattering as a light fall of snow began. "I've misplaced my gloves and I lost my scarf last week, used it to muzzle a dog. I don't mind animals but this one was rabid, caused a bit of an uproar the other side of London. I was able to prove that the owner was letting it out at night to scare off his girlfriend's special  _'male friend'_  who'd taken to visiting when he was on shift work. Turned out to be quite a dull case and hardly worth my time". He moved forward as the woman tried to process the stream of words. He stepped into the doorway and took two paces into the hall to allow the lady to shut the door. He smiled and extended a frozen hand "Sherlock Holmes" he introduced a little more warmly, although she felt a lot of it was an act. "Scott has explained the situation. Sounds very promising, if it is as good as it looks it will be my first American case, not my first international though, you're too late for that. You're Martha Hudson" he added, simply.

She nodded and shook his hand slightly more firmly than he was expecting. "Yes, thank you for coming, Sherlock. A right mess Roger has got himself into. Well come in then, come in and sit down" she invited, kindly.

"Thank you". They stepped through into a kitchen area, he saw immediately that there was a chair set up for him so he moved over, eager to get into working. "Mrs. Hudson please don't feel as though you need to tell me any details, I'd prefer to read the police reports first. I don't want your judgements clouding my brainwork yet". Somehow she wasn't insulted by this, just happy that he was about to get going. She realised that he was watching her intently. "You've already made up your mind about his innocence, or lack thereof. Don't tell me anything yet, let me look at the facts first". He sat at the table and hovered his hands over the information before flipping through a lot of it as though checking that it was all there and in order. "And this is everything you have?"

She watched on, stopping her buzzing around the kitchen, hand on her hip. "Yes. I spoke with him, my husband that is, on the phone before those were sent through. I can tell you what he said after you've read those?"

"That would be excellent". He began to read the letter in his hands before demanding "Black two sugars, usually I prefer coffee but with the tea prepared already that will do". He looked over at the woman, his face falling a little. "You were about to offer me tea, weren't you? I was trying to save time". He sounded a little unsure of his actions.

"Oh yes, that's fine" she replied, starting to head over to the bench. "You must be frozen, I'll crank up the heating now, don't you worry about that. You focus on what you're doing"

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, take your time" he reassured in his deep baritone.

Over the next few minutes the homeowner adjusted the thermostat, got the plates ready and watched the young man at work. His eyes raced back and forth over the words and they seemed to sharpen more with each bit of information, both the clear and unclear, that he received. He obviously really enjoyed working out puzzles, gave him a chance to use his gifted mind. As he went he nodded as the teacup was placed infront of him but he stayed silent and left it untouched, obviously engaged with what he was doing. "Have some of the slice, Dear. You look like you could do with some feeding up"

"No, thank you. I don't eat when I'm working" he replied in a well practiced monotone, not looking up.

"Nonsense, you've been eyeing it off since you arrived". And with that there was a piece of slice placed on his saucer.

Surprisingly it only took a moment then he was staring up at her in silence with something close to mild shock on his face. His bright eyes were wide and he suddenly looked younger and a lot more vulnerable.

"Well come on, don't let your tea get cold. Then I want to hear what you make of these" she encouraged, waving a hand to the papers between them. "You sound like you know what you're doing and I'm relying on you, remember".

He took a moment but nodded, lifting his spoon and stirring then bringing the cup to his lips and taking a sip. He then took a bite of the slice, swallowing and then seemed torn. He gazed down at the baked good, made a decision and then took another bite, all of a sudden he seemed ravenous but he was able to control this somehow.

"They're apricot and condensed milk" she informed him with a motherly smile "I have apple and rhubarb ones to take home with you if you do a good job". At this she placed another one of the cakes on the side of his plate. She watched as he absently took it in his right hand as he read a page in his left, munching on it every so often.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, you are an exemplary baker" he complemented ten minutes later. She didn't know how much praise he gave others on a day to day basis so she felt satisfaction at the comment. "Now" he redirected, looking excited "tell me about your husband. And please, don't be boring" he grinned, tenting his hands and leaning back in his chair and he waited with rapt attention for her to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel as though Sherlock here is very much like pilot!Sherlock, just a bit younger. His clothes are similar to that version.
> 
> I'm not sure when these went from drabbles to seeming like one shots but I have to say this one is my favourite so far! Thanks for reading and the kudos up until now, please let me know what you thought of this story :)


	15. Mummy Holmes

Mummy Holmes, like any female Holmes, was a well to do woman who focussed on her hobbies and social connections. She spent a lot of her time working in the background of charities and doing other philanthropic activities. With her bright mind and advanced strategic skills she is an asset to whoever she chooses to lend her talents to. She didn't always work for these type of businesses and in fact spent time working her way up from a secretary to something much more. These days she works on a casual basis when the mood strikes her, as she has since having children.

She feels as though her boys are her greatest achievement, not that she tells them in as many words. It's the sort of thing they should just know. It has always been that to be too soft on a child spoils them and even though they are now adults the rule stays the same.

Her sons are blessed with many of the family traits but their minds really are in a class of their own. However, this shouldn't get them out of contacting their mother once in a while, something she constantly reminds them whenever she is able to actually get through to them. They always seen to be so busy.

"Sherlock, Dear, you've finally decided to answer that phone of yours"

"Mother" he greets in a patient tone but she knows he is rolling his eyes, unseen. Nasty habit of his.

"I rang you last week but you didn't return my calls"

"I was in Dartmoor. For a case" he enunciated carefully. Was he hinting at the fact that last time they'd been in contact she'd mentioned that he should be working more?

"Mycroft said  _he'd_  been able to speak with you"

"Mycroft?" he barked, sounding betrayed and also surprised at the fact she knew this information. When he began to talk again it was as though he was having a hard time admitting to something. "He, he was. He assisted me. A little. I had to speak with him"

"I'm happy to hear it. It always upsets me when you two bicker or ignore each other, makes it look as though I didn't raise you properly"

There are some loud banging noises in the background. "Mummy, I'm actually quite busy at the moment, does this have a point?"

"I'm wondering when you're going to see your mother next? I'm free next week"

"I'm afraid that-"

She changes tact "-when am I going to meet this Watkins fellow, anyway? I'm so glad you've made a friend, I wish you'd tell me more about him"

" _Watson_ , his name is John Watson" there are male voices in the background. He covers the phone and says something to them that she can't pick up. "Call again in a month, I don't have time now"

"That's what you said last conversation, do you take me for a fool?"

It went on like this for another minute until he said there was a policeman trying to get him off the phone and to a murder scene. At least he was doing something productive.

"Goodbye then, Sherlock. Call me soon"

"Yes" he responded simply but he never would. The dial tone buzz was instant and grating.

After placing the handset on the receiver the vibrant lady picked it back up and called her eldest.

"Hello, Mrs. Holmes, it's Anthea, how can I help you?"

"Is my son there, Dear? I need to speak with him. I hope you're well"

"I'll just see if he's available" she replied in a confident tone.

A full minute later a harried male voice comes over the line. "Mummy, I'm quite tied up at the moment. I told you to call my mobile if you need me"

"It's not as though you're keeping the Prime Minister waiting-"

"-actually-"

"-your brother won't come and see me, I want you to change his mind"

Mycroft wasn't quick enough to prevent a frustrated tut from leaving his lips followed by a loud exhale. "With all due respect isn't this something you can sort out with him yourself if it has to be done today?" he then began to backtrack a little "I just mean that we've had another situation with the London Mayor this afternoon and Sherlock has been taking up rather a lot-"

"-I've tried, he won't listen to me. He listens to you"

"Not always and every time he does it's a small miracle". A light rustle over the phone line indicated he was rubbing at his brow and hairline, a nervous habit he'd picked up from his father that seemed to come out most often when he was speaking with his mother. When he speaks again it's in his usual tone, he'd obviously got himself in check. "I'll see what I can do"

She smiles in victory. "Thank you, Mycroft, that wasn't hard, was it? Say goodbye to Anthea for me, I do hope she is looking after you"

"As ever. Goodbye for now"

Mummy Holmes places the phone down with a small click and goes over to the window to look out over the sweeping gardens. The afternoon sun is highlighting the begonias in the greenhouse as she thinks about her sons and where they are today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next instalment will be how Lestrade met Sherlock. Thanks for reading, feedback is appreciated :)


	16. Restlessness and Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, I had an unexpected hospital stay but am feeling much better now! I wanted to do the Lestrade and Sherlock meeting for the first time story next but I want to get that one to be the best it can be so I have done a little hospital story instead to get me writing again (and to get my stay out of my system!). Enjoy!

Sherlock sat up in the half raised hospital bed and did his best to flex his feet,  _anything_  to attempt to relieve the aching pain in his legs and lumbar area from being made to lie there in the same uncomfortable position for an extended period of time. His back hurt, his legs hurt as did his stomach muscles and chest. He wanted to sleep but he'd been doing a lot of that here so more rest wasn't going to happen. He wanted to get up and move around but the staff kept stopping him. His transport was demanding he move to get rid of the frustration that seemed to have deeply seeped into his bones but it was the very thing stopping him from achieving it!

He'd been in St. Bart's for the last two days and it was apparent he wasn't going home any time soon no matter how much he requested it. He'd woken up here and noted a mask on his face and a drip in his arm before he'd attempted to rip the damn things off. With the oxygen he couldn't breathe, it was too hot, he was coughing violently again and no matter how hard he tried the air wouldn't go in. It was like trying to draw breath in a sauna or a room filled only with smoke. It wasn't the sort of thing that was pleasant to come around to when you didn't know where you were in the first place.

For the last week he'd been slowing down and seemingly hacking up his lungs every few minutes. The doctor here had mentioned something about pneumonia. Sounded boring at any rate. He'd been on the end of his third case with Lestrade who was suggesting annoying things like 'rest', 'slowing down', 'giving up the smokes for a week' and asked 'if there is someone who can look after you at the moment?'. Really, he was  _fine._ He just needed to finish the case, which he did, then he could sit down and let his transport recharge if that was what it was demanding. It could wait though, his mind was busy.

"Can I get you anything, Mr. Holmes?". He snapped back into reality as his nurse for the morning ripped off the blood pressure band around his arm and finished making some notes on his chart. "I'll be back in an hour to take your blood pressure again but can I get you anything for now?". She had been nothing but polite as he'd glared at her in silence any time she checked his obs and saline IV.

"You can get me out of here?" he all but whispered, hating the fact that his voice wasn't doing what he wanted it to do. He followed this up by coughing again.

"Careful there" she sympathised, raising an arm to rub at his back which was quickly swotted away. "Well the buzzer is there like I said, and the telly works, you know". It seemed an obsession with these women that he waste his time watching the idiot box. They fussed over his paleness, his weight and kept asking him if there was a girlfriend, friend or family member that could come in and talk with him. There seemed to be two types of them: either smiley and kind or overbearing and pushy.

At this there was a noise at the door: leather shoes, familiar tread pattern, metal tip of something handheld touching the floor with a slight delay. Stride indicating a height of just over six foot, walking slower than usual as if worried about what he is about to step into. "You have a visitor!" the medical staffer announced brightly and left them to it.

Sherlock didn't need to look over to see who it was and pointedly looked out the window in the opposite direction. There was the sound of the vinyl depressing in the only seat in the room to his left. Two minutes passed in silence, only broken by a round of shuddering hacks by the younger man who ten minutes ago thought he couldn't feel any more miserable. Apparently he was wrong about some things when unwell.

"I was in Salzburg when the call came" the lofty voice of the government worker began. " _Pneumonia_. They said not to rush, that you wouldn't be going anywhere for a few days". There was no acknowledgement of his words. Mycroft sighed. "I understand we haven't seen each other face to face much of late, four months if memory serves-"

A noise then another unhealthy sounding bark.

"Pardon?"

" _Five_ " the pale one repeated a little more audibly, drawing it out in exasperation that was directed towards his own useless system.

"Ah" the elder one conceded, fiddling with his pocket watch chain to hide his slight discomfort at the correction. He had been busy and didn't realise it had been that long. "Yes, well, the situation recently in-"

"-wasn't complaining" the patient shifted, arching his back and groaning as he finally released some of the tension. "You're not needed" he informed his brother with a wave in his general direction. He still hadn't looked over.

"Well someone was" Mycroft counted, gaining some strength in his restrained anger. "You collapsed at the top of your staircase after checking the mailbox. I wonder how long it would have been if you had instead lost consciousness in your apartment?

The ill one made the best frustrated snarl that he could in his circumstances and switched the television on.

Mycroft's face soured at this childish act. In response his tone lightened to that of someone believing they are taking the higher ground. "I'll be here for half an hour, I don't mind if we converse or not. I doubt you feel up to it in your  _condition_ ".

Sherlock merely pulled a face and stayed quiet, directing his gaze to the black box.

Ten minutes later another nurse entered the room, taking the silence to be a gap in conversation. The suited one was answering emails on his mobile device and Sherlock was watching a children's show. They were singing an irritating tune about a teddy bear which goes round and round a garden, inane, but better to commit that to memory than his stupid brother's presence. "I have a phone message for you, you didn't answer before so" she read the top of the note " _Greg_ , left a few words"

"Greg?" the brunet spat, turning his head to the woman as though she was playing a practical joke on him or was instead incredibly dim.

"Oh, it says Greg Lestrade?" she then relaxed a little as acknowledgement flashed across his features. She then ran her eyes over the words and summarised. "He dropped by your flat and your neighbour let him know where you are. He hopes you're feeling better soon and that whenever you're better he's looking forward to working with you. But not before. You need to" she stopped and seemed to reread the next part a few times as though it could be wrong but then continued "you need to not be an idiot and take the time to get well properly or no more...cases. He won't be interested".

As she read it out Mycroft listened intently, he wasn't aware the DS had been in touch. He also seemed to be pushing for better, more healthy behaviour. His brother had asked him not to contact Lestrade when he was told of the agreement the two had struck. He had so far kept to his word by doing a full background check on the Detective Sergeant, receiving regular reports on the man and had a few of his 'people' have discussions with him. The time was coming though where he himself would have to speak with the policeman face to face. He seemed to be very familiar with his kin which indicated either something good or something very bad.

Sherlock instead huffed and looked out the window again, this was annoying, he wanted to get straight back out there but now it would be a couple of weeks before he could get into it. He'd have to rely on a private case instead in the meantime.

"Thank you" the elder Holmes said curtly when it was clear the other wouldn't and the lady departed with a small smile. He again spoke to his sibling who was feeling more and more like this was a form of torture or some sort of conspiracy. "I was sceptical about his reasons for contacting you, but with the last piece of advice that could only be from someone who actually knows you"

"Oh, shut up, Mycroft!" the bitter man snapped, finally losing his temper at the whole situation. He ignoring the pain in his throat even though he was hissing his venom rather than yelling. "Don't you have an election to be rigging?". At this he finally turned to his visitor and instantly saw that many things had happened since they had last seen each other five months ago. He'd obviously been under a lot of stress and there were many, many late nights. Much travelling, nationally and internationally. His hair had receded a little but the main thing was that he'd lost around around 20 pounds, quite a lot for that amount of time. His eyes travelled up and down: stress, dieting and being overworked were the three main factors.

The man before him had been chubby as a teen, put on more weight at university before dropping down to a trimmer frame as he started his first full time role. He didn't have a problem with body image but food was just something he had to watch as he did indulge and 'legwork' was almost non-existent. For the last couple of years he hadn't been seeing to it as carefully as he should have been and the pounds had been piling on again. Sherlock realised his mouth had been hanging open but after taking this all in in around five seconds he closed it again and maintained eye contact. "You look different" he admitted quietly, his anger had been lost for now as he was distracted with this new data.

He wasn't as thin as Sherlock but this lack of weight emphasised his nose and chin. Made him look hawk like and more dangerous as he tightly snapped "I'm  _fine_ " in the same way Sherlock did whenever Mycroft would ask how his 'unnecessary problem' was going. At least the older one now understood Sherlock wasn't a junkie, it was just something he did to stop the dull dreariness of existence when there wasn't anything better to occupy his mind. At least he thought his brother now understood that, he'd explained it enough times. At this the taller one stood which only emphasised his weight loss as his recently altered suit hung off him. "I'll leave, you obviously don't need the company. Mummy passes on her best wishes. She'll ring later tonight, I suggest you take  _that_ call even if you are ignoring all others".

The younger man nodded, he was a little disappointed that he wouldn't be able to gleam more details from this new puzzle once it left. "Mycroft, I meant what I said about not taking to Lestrade. He's mine, you'll just scare him off, leave him alone". His voice was softer now, more pleading.

"I wouldn't dream of it". The consulting detective knew he wasn't getting the whole truth, the pressed thin line of his lips told him that. "Now do rest up, Sherlock. I don't want any more calls from hospitals for a while". At this he stepped out before waiting for a reply, umbrella tucked up high on his elbow.

Sherlock continued to watch the door for a few minutes, deciding to himself that he'd take them up on their offer of jelly next time the nurse came around. That and the TV could stay on for now, the next show was now going through different types of minerals found in the soil in England and he supposed it would help pass the time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have the time a quick review it would help make me feel a bit better as I am stuck at home recovering and it's incredibly boring :)
> 
> Also, my thoughts are with those in America at this time. Stay safe everyone.


	17. When Sleep Calls

John happily turned the key in the lock, letting himself back into 221b. He'd left about half an hour ago to pick up a few things down at the local shops after having finally gotten Sherlock into bed. He'd been awake for over 80 hours after a complicated private case. He'd been a real mess displaying this by spewing deductions, unrelated facts and was also showing signs of hallucinations right before he'd finally gone into his bedroom and hopefully succumbed to his 'transport's' needs . Sleep deprivation did that to you. The doctor in him was horrified that the man kept pushing himself like this but it just drove home the fact that it was good that he himself was there to look after his friend.

As he made his way inside the front hall their landlady stepped forward out of the entrance of her flat. "Oh, thank goodness you're back". She looked a little harried but there was relief revealing itself now that support had arrived.

"Mrs. Hudson what's happened? What's wrong?" her kind tenant questioned with real concern. At that there was a thump and a bellow from up above that could only be from one person. John groaned and rubbed at his eyes. "I thought we'd finally got him down" he sighed, sounding pained but also as though he was discussing an unruly two year old.

The woman tapped at her bottom lip in a sign of worry. "As soon as you left there he was back up again going on about  _spies_  and something or another. I stayed down here mostly, thought it was best"

"You did the right thing". He assessed the items he'd bought that could very quickly get broken. "Listen, I'm going to leave the bags here for now and deal with this first"

"Well be careful, won't you? You know what he's like when he needs a rest. Reminds me of-"

"-sorry Mrs. Hudson" he politely interrupts as though talking with one of his elderly patients, he begins to move "but I better get up there"

"Oh yes of course, Dear, off you go" she agrees and takes out the milk and butter to put away in her fridge then potters off to her own flat to wait it out.

As John ascends the stairs he pauses as the squeaky step screeches under his weight, he imagines that the probable storm of arms and legs above halt at the sound as it has gone eerily quiet up there. He's been discovered.

"Sherlock?" John calls out in a calm voice. "Sherlock, are you out of bed?". He gently opens the door which leads directly to the main area of the flat. He gazes around looking for the most likely hallucinating detective. It takes him longer than it should, he was beginning to think he could be in the kitchen or his bedroom. Instead staring at him from behind his black leather arm chair was a shock of messy curls and manic blue eyes. That was all of him that was visible, the rest of him was hiding behind the furniture. "Sherlock-"

"Shhhhhhh!" the man had risked popping up a little further so that he could stick a raised finger over his lips to complete the silencing action. " _Spy_ " he whispered, which was unnecessary when it was delivered at the same level as he usually spoke. "Your gun, and hurry! Could be  _dangerous_ ". At this he pointed towards the kitchen with wide, knowing eyes. "Careful!" he added as an afterthought. John cautiously shuffled around, taking his time to look as though he was playing along. There he saw nothing unusual, behind him the crouching man was hissing 'your gun, your gun!' so John raised his hand sticking out a finger with his thumb raised like he did playing cops and robbers as a kid. It seemed to satisfy Sherlock who hissed " _Near the sink!_ ".

That was when the doctor understood. Sherlock had left a blazer on the back of a chair which was sitting back against the cupboards and behind it was an empty ice cream tub resting at the edge of the bench. Together they must have looked like a person in his sleep deprived state. Either that or he had just seen a person out of nothing, which at his level of tiredness was also very much a possibility. He moved both the items then turned as there was a large thump behind him.

Sherlock in his relief or joy at John taking care of the 'killer' had stood and then gone face first over the armchair so that his arms and face were sliding down towards the floor and his long legs and feet were in the air. He mumbled something as he just allowed his body to rest there for a moment.

"No, not sleeping there" the blond admonished. He was making his way over when he saw movement at the door and eyed Lestrade who was watching the detective who was still on his stomach and upside down on the chair mumbling and swotting at the floor as though it had jumped up to meet his face.

"Greg, perfect timing, can you give us a hand?"

The DI nodded and shrugged off his overcoat. It was clear to him in only the few seconds he'd been there that his consultant wasn't in his right mind. "He's not high is he?" at this he trying his best to look at the man as he flailed. "He's not usually like this when he's high, unless he's on some sort of downer? Has he been drugged?"

"He might as well be. Sleep deprivation" he explained grabbing onto the right arm carefully. "Without any sleep he'll be having hallucinations, both visual and auditory". He begins to gently try and move the man to no avail. "Who knows what's going on in that brain. I had him in bed then went to the shops but he was up again when I got home. Grab his other arm will you?"

Sherlock looked around wincing. "Did you put your gun away? The other one from the case?" he asked with a little slur.

The doctor couldn't help colouring a little as Greg watched him carefully with widening eyes. "See what I mean? Thinks I have a gun. Barking". He left it at that not seeing the knowing smile from the policeman. He wasn't an idiot. "Ok" John instructed. "Grab him near the armpit, let's get him up". He then started to speak to the lounging brunet whose face was now grinding into the carpet with his own weight. "Sherlock, come on, you're overtired. Time to get up and get to bed".

The two men rolled him over so that he was now on his back, groaning. They pulled him forward so that his hips dropped to the floor leaving his legs on the seat of the chair. He swung his limbs around as though he was falling through space and time in slow motion. As the two men began to raise him up by his arms he seemed to see Greg for the first time and unsuccessfully tried to shake him off saying. "I told you I have an exam tomorrow, Victor, go away. We can discuss your obvious worship of me tomorrow".

"Must have been just as tactful back at uni as he is now. If there ever was a Victor" Lestrade noted with humour, humour which dimmed a bit as he was nearly hit in the head again by a stray limb.

They had him upright, he stumbled like a newborn foal for a moment before being fairly steady on his feet. They were about to walk him to his room when John noted he'd slightly cut his head most likely when he'd fallen. He pointed at the wound and then said "I'll just grab something to wipe that with then we take him. He has tendency to sleep on his front when he's like this so I'll have to do it now".

Greg nodded and watched as the detective bumbled over and took his violin out. "Hey, do you reckon I could get him to agree to anything like this? Maybe get some good blackmail material?".

John let out a bark of laugher as he entered the bathroom, knowing the DI wouldn't actually take advantage of his friend in this condition. The man had had his reasons for filming him last time he was drugged and John had fully supported that at the time. What he'd said the day before about his new haircut and car were fairly unforgivable. "Ha, good luck!". He spent a minute or so looking around for some supplies, or even a clean towel as the violin shrieked to life in the other room. It sounded strange, otherworldly and not completely in tune or pleasant to listen to. "I'm going to have to go upstairs for a moment. Watch him for a minute".

John moved towards the stairs but turned around just in time to see Sherlock pointing his bow at Lestrade and saying "Are you here to audition for second violin? If so, you should have been here an hour ago. I don't appreciate tardiness and you won't make my quartet with that attitude". John returned to the lounge area about three minutes later, it had taken him time to find what he needed. As he descended the steps he could hear a melancholy tune emanating from the Stradivarius. It was beautifully haunting and he couldn't help but feel impressed and a little proud.

Their visitor apparently felt the same way. "Got to give it to him, out of his mind and still able to produce that. Blimey"

"Some men have all the luck with that stuff, don't they?  _Talent._ Can't say I was ever like that with my clarinet". Sherlock was still playing but allowed John to dab at his forehead with the wet gauze. He shut his eyes, head angled perfectly to get to the wound due to the chinrest. He hummed softly in a pleased way at the physical contact. When he was finished John moved to the kitchen to throw out the soiled material. "Can you get that thing off him, please? Let's get him to bed".

Greg did his best, Sherlock was swaying on the spot as he played and not in time with the music which was slowly getting worse. But he still wouldn't give up his prize, pushing the grey haired man away with an elbow in the middle of his chest.

John raised a hand for the policeman to stop and he did, stepping away. The doctor walked up so he was directly in front of Sherlock who now opened his eyes again and gazed down softly at his flatmate. Recognition sparked in his eyes. " _John_ " he murmured in almost a caress "I feel a little strange". Playing always did focus him and it seemed it was now able to give him a moment of clarity no matter how fleeting.

"Time for bed" the blond said once again, this time gently placing a hand on the detective's larger one to halt the bow. Surprisingly it worked and the notes came to a stop.

He allowed the instrument to be taken off him and stood patiently, swaying as he waited for something. Apparently that was for his friend. As soon as John placed a hand on his arm Sherlock let himself be led to his room. "Haven't we already done this today?" he asked, quietly, voice sounding a little rough now.

"Yes, but you like me so much you wanted to do it again"

"Oh. Ok" he agreed. "I must like you a lot".

John was going to gently lay him down but as with the time he'd been drugged by The Woman he somehow fell onto the bed face first and stayed there. "Night, Sherlock" he bade him even though it was only 4pm.  He received a long moan in response.

When he returned to the sitting area Greg was still standing, never sitting down without invitation. "Mind taking a look at a couple of photos for me? I've actually got a couple of medical questions so that'll work. Strictly speaking I should have Sherlock take a look but I don't think he's going to be much use to me".

"Let me put the kettle on first. It's been a long few days" John admitted with a weary smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being stuck at home at least has the benefit of giving me time to write (this is the longest chapter yet!).
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let me know if you have a request :)


	18. Watson.  John Watson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've done a few caring!John drabbles/oneshots on here so I though it was time for some BAMF!John. Enjoy!

The case had led them to a darkened school hall at around 9pm. Sherlock had run off without John leaving him a few minutes behind. One problem about this night was that the police were even further behind and they didn't know exactly how far. It was one of Dimmock's cases and John was beginning to agree with his flatmate that the man was every bit as 'Dim' as his name suggested. Not only did he check and triple check every one of the consulting detective's suggestions, wasting valuable time, but he'd said it would take over an hour to get a team together to storm the school which was frankly ridiculous. He was obviously trying to delay things so that it looked as though it was his idea in the first place.

But the real reason John was so annoyed with his colleague was that he'd now run into a situation of danger with no back up apart for the ex-army doctor who was delayed. They needed to have a little chat about this. If they got out unscathed, that is.

Having found where the detective has entered the building John began to kick one of the doors down to get in, then finally made his way into the hall to see Sherlock being thrown to the ground and repeatedly kicked in the stomach while three others were carrying boxes away at great speed. The tall brunet was usually very good at hand to hand combat so something must have happened. Between his bartitsu and boxing skills coupled with his light, speedy body the attacker must have claimed the upper hand almost instantly, injury with a weapon was a possibility.

All of a sudden John was over there almost silently and ready to end this. The criminal was yanked backwards away from the winded detective. "Hey!" the man exclaimed thinking it was just the two of them in the room before he had a fist to the nose then jaw and was down for the count.

Next a knife wielding assailant who had run back into the great space after hearing noise was onto the blond doctor not seeing him as a threat. John gave a harsh little grimace before knocking the hand out of the way, kicking the man's thigh then grabbing and bending the arm until the weapon was dropped. Not understanding his predicament the bald criminal went after it again but the blade was kicked away. Still being held, there was a sickening crunch from the limb and he stumbled off screaming in pain.

John straightened himself and cracked his neck calmly, daring the next people to make a move. His bright eyes were narrowed and everyone sensed danger. However, they kept going. Two unarmed men ran up now as Sherlock looked over helplessly, trying to get his breath back as he rocked back and forth on his knees and elbows, gasping and spluttering. He was left alone as all attention was on the one in the oatmeal toned jumper who was systemactially taking them out one by one.

Instead of delaying anything John who looked more of a soldier than ever approached the first one, blocked a punch and then landed his own into the man's abdomen, slamming an elbow directly down onto the back of the guy's head as he bent forward in an attempt to suck in some air causing him to fall hard, arms splayed.

The next crook hesitated which was his undoing. John said clearly "You've seen what I'll do, just lie down, the police are on their way"

"I-I can't let, let you live" the man stuttered, eyes flicking from his attacker to the ground where the knife lay. He couldn't believe this was happening, especially not by a man with the physique and dress sense in front of him.

John sighed, rolled up his sleeves and began to walk over. The thief stilled then began to move backwards, tripping over his own feet. When he tried to get up John said "Stay down and you won't get hurt".

The idiot didn't take the warning and as he raised himself on shaking limbs, the combat trained blond sighed and gave him a blow to the head, knocking him back down to the ground. He responded by whimpering and staying there.

John turned around as he heard footsteps racing in and saw a team of Scotland Yard's finest finally here to do what they should have done ten minutes ago. It wasn't their fault though, that blame rested with Dimmock.

As the group of criminals were rounded up John noticed that people were watching him carefully without saying anything. But really his eyes sought his friend who was still on the ground. He walked over and extended a hand to help him up which was gratefully accepted. "...winded..." he explained in a wheezing tone. "First guy...threw something...at my head...was dazed...should have seen it coming...stupid..."

John was glad he was unhurt apart from the obvious but still wasn't impressed. "No, you should have waited for me, that's what you should have done. I hope you've learnt your lesson. You're lucky you weren't killed!". He gazed around the room to see that most people were eyeing him with varying expressions. Something strange was going on and he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

" _John_ " Sherlock began but was ignored.

The doctor had his phone out and was using the light from it to test Sherlock's pupils for concussion. "Get one of the paramedics to check you out, but I think you're ok. I have someone to speak with". At this the ex-soilder strode over to the largest gathering there. "You took your time" he accused the DI in charge.

Dimmock stopped talking to a Detective Sergeant, swallowed, then raised his head so he was looking down his nose a little which didn't work so well as they were around the same height. "I got the team together but you two seemed to think you had the right to come in here and deal with things yourself". There were noises and raised voices all around them as the situation was beginning to be cleared and organised.

"Well someone had to, didn't they?  _They_  were about ready to leave. I know what Sherlock is like and I accept that but there were some serious delays from your end" John returned, adrenaline still pumping through him. At his words more people turned to watch him but he tried to pretend that they weren't looking at him. It was almost as though they were...scared of him? Reassessing him? "What is the matter with them?" he asked without as much heat, pumping his fingers in and out of a fist.

"Well, the doors were locked and it took us about a minute to get in but we got a full show of you disarming all the assailants". As this he indicated to the various points around the hall where the police would have been able to see him take down four men, some armed, as though he were doing nothing more taxing than walking through a shopping centre during the Christmas rush. "It was..." he stopped, seemingly looking for the right words while watching something over John's right shoulder "...pretty bloody impressive, I have to say". At this he bristled and set his lips in a bit of a pout ready to be insulted.

John felt a hand on his shoulder but didn't need to turn around to see who it was. "Four...that's all of them, Dimmock. Do you need to ask everyone here if they saw that before you can arrest them?". He didn't wait for a response before turning to his flatmate. "You don't understand the reaction. Everyone underestimates you and were shocked and impressed by your display. They are wondering how the short man who like jumpers and tea can fight like that"

"What did you tell them?"

"That you're John Watson" he said as though that cleared up the matter entirely. "Good day, Dimmock. Enjoy the paperwork. Your presence was as intolerable as ever" he said to a stunned DI and walked off with his friend.

"Did you really say that?" the shorter one questioned as they got further away from their audience.

"That you're John Watson? Of course I did"

"Right"

"Also someone called you a ninja, I didn't correct them. People watch for too many movies and that's not my fault"

"A ninja? Haven't had that one before". He then looked up at his friend's face. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just annoyed that it takes something like this for people to see what use you are. I told you people are idiots"

"Are you buttering me up so that I don't yell at you for going in there by yourself?"

"A little. It's true, though"

"Come on, you. Let's get something to eat. Chinese?"


	19. And your thoughts?

"So, your brother has a flatmate.  _That's_  new" Lestrade began as he reclined in his desk chair with a grin, eyeing off his visitor. He'd known Sherlock for five years now and his elder sibling for around the same amount of time. This brunet intrigued him as much as he infuriated him but the more they got to know each other the more he was gaining his respect. The important thing was that he believed that the respect was mutual and again earned. At first he couldn't really stand him, people with that amount of power who are willing to flaunt it were not ok in his book. He thought it may have stemmed back to his teenage years and his distaste for authority figures then. He can handle the natural hierarchy, as a cop he has to, it's just when smug bastards wave around their barely earned privilege they're going to get called out on it. And this Holmes kidnapping him that first night, threatening him, demanding he explain what his motives were for being in contact with Sherlock Holmes and then telling him how he could 'relieve' him of his career if he didn't answer truthfully! Then offering him bribes once he'd replied! The man had deserved every foul word and comment that dropped from his lips that night. In retrospect, as shocked at the reaction as the government worker was no matter how much he hid it, Greg thinks that that was the night that a lot of the respect that makes up the foundation of their relationship was formed.

"Yes. A certain John H Watson to be exact" Mycroft Holmes agreed, simply, pulling the DI from his thoughts. He sat confidently in his seat, both hands resting on top of his umbrella like a walking stick. His body language dictated that Greg was to continue.

"Saw you there last night, was wondering when you'd be in contact". He waits for the other to comment on this but when he doesn't his smile drops as he remembers that he's talking to a Holmes and a very important one at that. Sometimes they sit and chat before they get down to business but it seems that the other is in a hurry today and not in a good mood at all. Over the past year they'd worked something out where they could talk to each other and be somewhat comfortable in the other's presence but something was obviously on this man's mind today. Maybe he was just worried about Sherlock and this new development? "So, what can you tell me about him? I take it that's why you're here, unless you'd like to discuss off the record my suspicions on the gunman?"

"Actually" the government worker begins silkily, gliding over the comments about the shooter "I was hoping  _you'd_  be kind enough to tell me what you know of this Doctor Watson. You've met him"

Greg leans forward a bit, tongue running along his bottom lip as he decides if he wants to be directed by a man who once again is using his power to get what he wants. At least it's in his office this time, door closed, instead of in one of those damn cars or somewhere cold and abandoned. Although recently they've been meeting in that strange little club of his too.

"I'm in somewhat of a  _hurry_ , Inspector. I have rather an important meeting in forty five minutes that I cannot afford to be late to"

Lestrade makes an unamused pout and bites back a 'You're the one that came here, go whenever you want' knowing that it would just makes things worse. The policeman decides it's in his best interests to just answer and perhaps he'll get some information afterwards. But he's not going to look as though he's enjoying this and he's not going to make it too easy. Stuff him. If they're going to take a step backward he can do the same. "He was pretty quiet, can tell he's sturdy though. Can hold his ground, I'd bet. Didn't run screaming after seeing a bit of brattiness, makes me think it'd take a lot to scare him off. Have no idea where they met. Thought he could have been one of yours for a moment"

Mycroft nods, seeming satisfied with this. "And how was he introduced to you?"

"Sherlock wouldn't tell me who he was at first, just said he was with him" he stretched back, his legs extended out under the table as he loosened up a bit "Looked as though he was enjoying having one up on everyone,  _he_  knew who this guy was but we didn't. Childish"

"And were there any problems? Anything that struck you as odd?" he pressed, eyes narrowing as he searched Greg's face for little clues that would tell him things along with the responses.

"I think he's seen some things, not that that's 'odd' like you say. Sounded like he's nearly been killed on at least one occasion". He then moved forward onto his elbows as though he'd remembered something of use, moving a pen between his hands without thinking about it "You know what's weird? The way Sherlock was acting around him. Explaining things, not snapping as much. At John I mean, he was his usual self to the rest of us". Again Mycroft nodded, he seemed to file all this away somewhere in his mind. "Could be good for your brother, you know, having someone around. God knows he could have some practice in human interaction".

"Yes, I think so". The thinner man seems to give himself a moment to file everything away then abruptly stood just as the DI thinks they were going to have a chat. "I appreciate your openness, Inspector. You've been most helpful"

Greg smirks, twisting the pen in his fingers as he relaxes back into the leather padding of his seat. "One of these days you'll use my name, Mr Holmes"

"Perhaps I will" again he seemed far away from here, going through the facts of what he'd just heard. "Thank you again, I'll let myself out". He turns and has his hand on the door handle when the detective speaks again.

"He hasn't run screaming yet. Makes me wonder what kind of man would want to hang around all of that?" Lestrade commented, cryptically.

The elder Holmes noted exactly what the man was getting at. "Who indeed?" he returned with a tight grimace not giving anything away.

"Mycroft". At this the addressed man frowned for a moment, not used to this man using his given name. In a flash his usual mask was back. "Look I know you're worried about him but I think this is a good thing. John seems alright by me for what it's worth"

The besuited one looked as though he'd been threatened. "I don't know where you get the impression-"

"-just" Greg had his hands raised in a pleading way "just give them some time. Your brother can be a nightmare but he'll be fine. But don't pretend like you're not concerned about this, I know we're not friends or anything but I've known you long enough to see when you're a million miles away and worried. You've barely spoken to me today. It's none of my business but if we're back to you only treating me coldly then you should have threatened my job at least once by now". He gives him a funny little smirk as though proud he'd been able to make some correct deductions of his own.

"I don't need your reassurance" Mycroft informed him. He then raised his head slightly as if realising he'd acted childishly. "I'll be in touch"

"Catch you then" Greg replied, displaying his palms then returning to his paperwork. He looked up to the empty doorway once once he's known the man had left. Bloody Holmes' and their moods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen some authors choose to have Mycroft with auburn hair which works, I've chosen to describe Mycroft's hair as brunet as in the third episode's commentary Mark says he has his hair dyed to match Benedict's (who has his hair dyed to match Sherlock Holmes').
> 
> Hope you've enjoyed this story. I can do some more Mycroft and Lestrade interactions if you're interested. Perhaps Mycroft won't be as grumpy next time :)


	20. Very loyal, very quickly

The first time Mycroft met Doctor John Hamish Watson face to face he accused the man of trusting 'one, Sherlock Holmes' very quickly, for which he had his own reasons.  However, in the end Mycroft began trusting John quite fast for someone in his position.    

Sherlock explained with a little distain that his brother  _is_ the British Government, when he isn't too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis.  Something that I'm sure only a small number of people are privy to.

When this was said outside the cabbie crime scene that night this was where the government worker could deny it.  You could claim that there wasn't much point arguing when the actuality was out there.  Or you could instead see it as Mycroft understanding that this was an important relationship that should be invested in.

John had already proved that he couldn't be bought, that he could be very loyal, very quickly to a man who many others avoided getting close to.  Add to this the very likely possibility that Mycroft had already had worked out that this ex-soilder had also just saved Sherlock's life.

John Watson could have been a force for good or bad on the consulting detective.  Good if he continued to support and protect him or bad if he was always this fast to jump in intensely or many worse things.  

Whatever the outcome, Mycroft was willing to give him a chance and trust the man with some important information on the first day they'd met.  It paid off to no end.


	21. Happy, you know, Birthday

John'd had one hell of a day. It was the start of July and they were in the middle of a heat wave which resulted in a large number of patients coming into the practice he was temping at. People feeling nauseous with headaches and suffering from dehydration were the main lot. He had to listen to people complaining in appointment after appointment, then he had to stay back for close to two hours to see everyone that needed to be attended to. It had turned into a twelve hour day and he was tired, hot and almost ready to admit to being grumpy as well.

It didn't help that today was his birthday. He'd considered turning the medical centre down when they had called but as they'd been light on paying cases recently he felt obliged to them up on their offer. Also at his age he shouldn't really expect a huge day of celebrations.

As he walked heavily up the seventeen stairs his feet gave every impression of having been replaced with lead weights. His shirt clung stickily to his back and more than anything he was looking forward to a glass of ice with water followed by a couple of cool beers.

Once he stepped into the main room of the flat he noticed that all the lights were out, Sherlock obviously wasn't in. John sighed, it would have been nice to have some company tonight.

After turning the kitchen light on he grabbed a glass and walked over to the fridge and accessed the freezer only to see that the ice blocks had melted. Wrenching open the fridge door the globe was out and raising a hand to the milk it confirmed that it had been without refrigeration for a while.

The unimpressed ex-soldier closed the door and looked behind the appliance doing what he could to keep calm. It resulted in his shifting in tight, controlled movements. He knew that the power was on so to him there was only one cause of this apart from if the thing had broken down. But there it was, the white good was unplugged. In its place a phone charger.  _Sherlock_. This didn't even make sense, there were several other power points that were far easier to access for him to use. Obviously he just wanted to use  _that one._

John rested his forehead to the slightly cool metal near him and repressed the urge to growl. He decided to skip water and go straight to beer. Even though it wasn't as chilled as he would like he was going to drink it and he was going to enjoy it.

He stepped over to his laptop, this was when he saw the note attached to it:

 

.

.

_John- I'm out on a case, should be back around 10pm if the sister is quick to admit all guilt. Mrs. Hudson (who is staring at me like a woman possessed) suggested I let you know before I 'dash off without a word'. By 'suggested' I mean 'threatened me at knife point'- she actually has a knife (doesn't matter that it's because she was in the kitchen. A weapon is a weapon). She also says for you to come and see her when you return from work. Says it's a surprise but she has obviously been baking. Cake going by the icing sugar above her ear (left when pushing hair aside absently) and a sponge by the faint smell of strawberries._

_PTO_

_On your bed is a paper bag with a medical journal circa 1895. I thought you would get something from reading it as it is a historical document and contains many interesting facts of its time. You may keep it although if you have no interest in the item then I require it to be returned to me so I can add the piece to my own collection. You'll be happy to hear that the author has mastered grammar to a level that far exceeds the efforts displayed on your blog._

_SH_

_Ps. Mrs. Hudson is still watching me, I don't think she believes I'm writing a real note. If you find me here with stab wounds you know who to arrest. (Apparently it's rude to suggest she doesn't handle the heat well)._

 

_._

_._

John read the note twice before a small smile broke out on his face which split into a wide grin. In some sort of round about way Sherlock Holmes had just wished him a happy birthday and even gave him a meaningful present.

He'd also spoiled Mrs. Hudson's surprise but he wouldn't let her know that. The man couldn't help pointing out what the facts led to even though he was meant to keep it to himself. He wondered if the madman expected an 'amazing' for that. Knowing him he probably did.

Tired body all but forgotten the doctor dashed up the stairs to get his present and then planned on heading down to 221a. A jam sponge sounded delicious and he knew she'd have a cold drink for him there too. The day hadn't turned out too badly after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Sherlock. The idea of Sherlock giving John old medical journals is from my other story 'Mind if I Smoke?' Chapter 5. He discusses it with Mycroft making it sound as though he is getting them mainly for himself but, you know, if it serves the dual purpose of making John think he has a birthday present then that solves that problem too. Mycroft isn't fooled :)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this instalment. Let me know what you think!


	22. The Iceman's Triumph

"Sorry about dinner" Sherlock offered in parting and stepped from the room.

It was only then a tear fell down Irene's cheek as she tried to get her head around what had taken place in the last few minutes. Sherlock had somehow worked out her passcode and now her whole world was crashing down around her.

It was only when Mycroft Holmes spoke she remembered that the other man was in the room. He was standing by his chair with one hand resting on top as he took back control of the situation. His demeanour was stony and professional. If he was feeling smug, pride for his brother's actions or vengeful he kept this well hidden behind a tight mask.

"Well then, Miss Adler. I'll have this destroyed" he explained calmly as he held up the now worthless list of demands. "Now, as you so eloquently put it 'off you pop'".

She turned with confusion on her face which was dulled by her clear shock. "You're not going to have me arrested?"

"My brother suggested that if I was feeling kind then I should lock you up. I assure you kindness, most namely mine, is not on the agenda". He lowered his arm and narrowed his eyes which flicked to the mobile on the table then back to her, menacingly. "I believe I have all I require on this device, if I thought we didn't then we would set up a situation where we would retrieve the information from you. All that we desired using every manner necessary".

The brunette kept her composure, letting out a breath and continuing. Her tone betrayed nothing. "I have to make my own way from here then?"

The British Government stepped forward, he may not have raised his voice but he seemed to chill the air as he spoke, the threat obvious. "Let me make this clear. You stepped into my home wielding enough blackmail material to demand a sizeable piece of Great Britain's wealth. Through your own carelessness, and a man's clever mind, within the space of minutes you have been left with nothing. All that you've ever worked for is gone and you cannot build your way back". He twisted his head as though contemplating the situation further. "I'll make a correction: you have some of the world's worst and most powerful offside and ready to kill you. That is what you have".

Irene was holding her ground, wasn't grovelling or snivelling but you could see the danger was very real as the fear of it etched itself into her face. "Are you going to make me beg you as well?"

"Like you did to my brother? It is such a shame that you are so determined to use your skills for that which you have. We could have used you on our side" he casually gazed down to the 'SHER' now written down on his cuff and for a moment looked very sad. "Others...could have used you".

At this she seemed to physically pull back from the situation as if it were too much but steadied herself quickly. "He was telling the truth, wasn't he? He really believes that love is a disadvantage"

"And where would he have been shown otherwise given your actions over the past few months? No, I think that it is one thing the three of us can agree upon". He shook himself out of that state. "Now, I have two security officers and my assistant in the next room. Would you like them to stay there or be present when you tell me all that you know about one James Moriarty?"

"I can't-"

"-you can and will. I want every detail no matter how small and I want to know where to find him. It's time the two of us have a chat as he so obviously wants to do"

"He'll have me killed!"

Mycroft straightened, a corner of his mouth lifted in dark amusement. "He'll have to get in line first". He let that sink in. "Now sit" he instructed, gesturing towards the chair she had occupied only ten minutes earlier when she had the upper hand. "Tell me what you know and I may organise a car ride for you. Or instead be silent and you'll discover what happens when you don't answer when questioned".

Irene's face screwed up in anger, she looked as though there were many things she'd like to say to this man that had nothing to do with giving information. Slowly though she made her way to the table. The elder Holmes allowed himself a small smirk in triumph.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took the writing on the shirt cuff idea from the DVD commentary where Mark said he wrote on his cuff in the scene at Mycroft's house. Sherlock did it in the books as they were detachable back then.
> 
> For the several Sherlock stories I've written, and the smaller ones for this story, this is the darkest I've written Mycroft. In this case I think it's justified after all that she's done but professionally and privately.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated :)


	23. The Plan From Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After writing the last story about Irene and Mycroft directly after Sherlock left in ASiB I thought this would go with it. It's what happens after Sherlock leaves in John's point of view.

"You're back" John said sleepily as he stepped into the living area. After waking up and realising he wasn't alone he didn't know what to expect as he came down the stairs, earlier there were two people here. Sherlock was standing in front of the window as he usually does when playing violin but this time he was just staring out into the darkened street in one of his black suits. "Mrs. Hudson said that man that took you to the palace came back, gave you a plane ticket. I didn't know where you'd be going". Sherlock hadn't turned around or even acknowledged John's presence, he tried a different tact. "I just came down to get a glass of water. Couldn't sleep, must have heard you come in or something". Still the detective didn't turn. "Sherlock?" he called out with worry in his voice now.

Finally the man turned and John could see that his body language was similar to just after Christmas when he thought Irene was dead. He was withdrawn, quiet. John really didn't want to go back to this again for everyone's sakes.

"Tea?" the doctor asked kindly.

"Coffee, if you're making one" the low voice answered.

John nodded, went and switched the kettle on and returned to the room. His flatmate was now standing next to a chair at their table, hand lightly resting on it. He seemed to be coming out of his state of deep thought.

The blond tugged his sleeves down a bit, the room was cool at this time in the morning and the fire was only smouldering. "So, you must have had a big night. Still in your suit. I take it you didn't fly anywhere?"

"No". It was clear he wasn't going to expand on this.

"Ok. Right" he smiled to show that he was being supportive and it was actually met with a nod of understanding.

"John, I don't think she'll try but if you see The Woman here or anywhere you must tell me. Do you understand?" his gaze was intense and penetrating, as though he needed this promise from his friend.

"The Woman? Adler? Irene Adler?"

"Yes. It's finished"

"She's left then?" At this he looked towards Sherlock's bedroom. "When I went out earlier she was here is all I mean"

"Yes, she won't be coming back"

"Did you want to-"

"-tell you about it? No. Mycroft is dealing with the tail end of the situation and she won't be bothering us again, that's all you need to know for now. Due to the content it's not one for your dreaded blog anyway. The kettle's boiled" he added in a monotone.

John took the hint and went and made their hot drinks. When he returned Sherlock was sitting in the chair at the table. John placed the mug down in front of him and took the seat opposite. He thought he'd try to cheer him up. "I ran into Molly tonight. She was out with a few girlfriends, funny story actually, she saw me first and-"

"-on second thought I don't think I'll have the coffee". He stood quickly and made his way to his bedroom, the door slamming a little as he closed it.

John sighed over his tea. He knew Sherlock wasn't rejecting the drink but in fact the social interaction. Well, he'd tried he reasoned with himself and put the telly on. He may as well stay up now, doubting he'd get much more sleep anyway.

The next day Mycroft got in contact and filled John in with a little more information. He didn't end up asking his flatmate about what happened, instead two days later when Sherlock rejoined the human race again he stepped to the door and grabbed his coat and asked John if he fancied dinner out. "And, John" he continued, the tone made his friend pause and look over " _thank you_ ". With that he was down the stairs talking about getting noodle dish somewhere with his blogger right behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In ASiB John seems to be out of the picture for a lot of it and that's what I was trying to get here. I think he's also quite respectful of Sherlock trying to work all of it it out for himself, although there are times where he does try to help him through it such as at New Years Eve. "So will you be seeing her again?".
> 
> In contrast with the Mycroft and Irene story before this I had Sherlock standing at the table with his hand up on the chair as Mycroft did. There are a few gestures that the brothers share and I though for this that could be another in this situation.


	24. A Christmas Realisation

"I wasn't expecting to see you, I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas?" Molly asked brightly, showing she'd remembered the conversation they'd had last week when the DI had to drop by the morgue about that Porter case.

Lestrade gave her a small smile, happy to be able to say what he was about to. "That's first thing in the morning, me and the wife we're back together, it's all sorted"

"No, she's sleeping with a PE teacher" Sherlock called out instantly from the other side of the room.

Greg felt his face pulling into a grimace, that's what you do when that idiotic genius says something- no wait. Sherlock doesn't joke about things like this. Actually does he joke ever? Focus, she doesn't know any PE teachers, she-

Suddenly it clicked into place. They'd made up four days ago but tonight she wasn't available to come to this Christmas party, she was going to her own with a group made up of some of the staff from the primary school she taught at. The one with that county level rugby player who would have played for the country if he hadn't have had that gammy hamstring. The very same man he'd shook hands with six months earlier as they sat there and spoke about the ladder and his own time playing the game at that fundraiser while his wife had sat there intrigued by their conversation. He'd let it go thinking that she'd found some new fascination in sports, one she'd never had when he wanted to watch it on his days off and they'd argue about that 'boring shite you like more than me'. They'd gone home that night and done things with each other that they hadn't done in months and hadn't done since come to think of it.

He found his feet taking him to the kitchen. He knew he should be angry, knew that he should ask Sherlock for the details but he didn't need them. He was a high level policeman, for Christ's sake. This was coming from the man who had told him that wife was cheating on him three months after they first met. A year after that he'd told him that he knew he was casually seeing that new sergeant from the other division, it was only a quick fling but the revenge was sweet. But Sherlock had known all the details by just looking at him. Christ, he'd known about his wife's activities without meeting her. At least he hoped he hadn't met her.

Back at the party he funnily enough just felt strangely resolved to the fact that this was it, they needed to get a divorce. Four days ago they'd agreed to give it one last try, she'd promised him that she wasn't seeing anyone and he'd said he would do his best to spend more time with her and not give so much to work.

It wasn't really something he should thank him for but Greg got his consultant a tipple. "Come on, Sherlock, have a drink". It wasn't really a sign of gratitude but it was an acknowledgement. It was also an action to say stop making deductions as it could only get worse from here. He'd heard him say something about John's alcoholic sister being back on the booze, maybe this would shut him up? Instead the tall brunet was already on his feet talking about Molly's red wrapped present. This wasn't going to end well.

A few minutes later when the young woman had been thoroughly embarrassed and John had gone in to see what was up with Sherlock who had disappeared to his bedroom, Greg decided he needed space to clear his head. "Well I'm going to call it an early one" he called out, sounding a little more demoralised than he hoped to. "Night all"

Molly was the first to respond, giving him her full attention. "Night, Greg. Listen, what Sherlock said-"

"-yeah it was pretty awful, don't let him open it" he joked, pointing at the offending gift.

"I don't think he's interested in what I've got him actually" she seemed a little sad about that but she was strong. "That wasn't what I was talking about". The kindness in her eyes made his heart swell a little, it was nice to have someone on his side.

"Oh, right. Yeah. Well, I'll see what happens when the misses gets back to our place. Think we'll have a little chat". He left it at that, no one wants to listen to a tragic whining, especially at Christmas. She reached over and gave his arm a quick squeeze. Her look of compassion said it all. "Thanks, Molly". He then turned to the other two there as he heard Sherlock's door slam, it then sounded like John went into the bathroom after they heard him sigh. "Night, Mrs. Hudson. Love the decorations. Nice touch" he added, pointing at the red and white hat on the skull.

"You're too kind. Hope you have a good Christmas, you know, considering"

He nodded. "And goodnight, Sarah". At this John's new girlfriend, he could have sworn Sherlock had called her Sarah, just rolled her eyes and crossed her arms more tightly. You just can't please some people.

Greg slipped from the room, bracing himself for another screaming match at home but this time he felt resolved to the fact that a final break up needed to happen. God he needed a holiday once this was all said and done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be a request. Hope you enjoyed this, any feedback is appreciated :)


	25. Reply Paid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I had a request in a PM (who asked to remain anon) for: Harry telling John about her wedding while he's still in Afghanistan. A letter.
> 
> I hope this is what you were looking for!

Hey Johnny,

I know I haven't written to you as much as I should have (Mum'll be asking some other angels up there if they're seeing the same thing she is: me writing to you without being told to! Haha). Anyway, I have some news, things have been going well with Clara and you won't believe it but I've asked her to marry me and she said yes! Me committing and getting married, I know! Me! Jeez, next thing you know you'll keep seeing a girl for longer than a month. We must be growing up, little bruv.

So I'm seeing if you can get some time off and be here for the wedding. I've forgiven you for running off to another country and leaving me here, see? Well almost.

I have no idea how long this letter will take to get to you, they made me use snail mail. My hand is hurting already, I'm not used to writing without a computer anymore! The ceremony is in a month and a half so hopefully you can make it. It's going to be small and the reception the same.  More a celebration than a party.

Anyway, as you can probably tell by the way I'm writing I'm really happy at the moment. Things are working out so well and it's sappy but I can see myself being with Clara for the rest of my life. Never thought I'd say that. She just needs to stop the nagging and we're sweet, ha, don't worry she says I've got some things to work on too. I just tell her that's what we Watson's are like! Short fuses, don't need fancy things and happy to tell someone when they're being a wanker!

Hope the army is treating you well and there are lots of fit chicks to keep your attention (I was going to ask you to put in a good word but I'm off the market now, never thought I'd say that, did you?).

Keep safe and don't forget to have fun,

Harry

PS. It's a bit hard to tell you so don't mention it to me when I see you but I finished a 30 day program (don't say again). In fact that's when I realised I needed to man up (woman up, whatever) and do the right thing with Clara. I couldn't have got through it without her. It's been pretty lonely here without you and Mum. We didn't see each other much but it meant something that you were always in the same city. I know I've said it before but I'm never touching a drink again. I mean it this time. Things can only look up from here, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I am doing requests if you would like to send any through.
> 
> I took my characterisation of Harry Watson from John's Blog.


	26. Companionship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There is a very small passing mention of wartime gore (battlefield injuries) here, nothing too bad but I thought I'd leave a warning.

Sherlock can hear John crashing around in the kitchen, at first he tunes it out but once he finds he can't block it any longer he analyses the sounds and realises that John has been dumped by his new girlfriend, this is the second break up this month which is a new record for the doctor, excessive even for him.

"You know" John begins as he steps into the living area. Sherlock wonders if perhaps he has already been talking to him as he seems to be continuing on from something. "Before I went away and served, before all of  _this_ " he waves a hand around the room as though it encompasses everything about their lives together "I had a few serious relationships. A couple there even told me that they thought we might end up together. Women who wanted me in their lives, there everyday". He lowers his mug a little and by the way he is holding it Sherlock realises there is alcohol in there, not tea. "For a while there I was a real catch: young, physically fit, doctor or training to be one, their mothers loved me, courteous, charming. I was a regular guy who was good boyfriend material".

Sherlock watches carefully, head turned slightly and is being careful not to interrupt. He's sitting cross legged on the couch with his laptop resting on top. It is rare for John to expose himself so openly without any prompting and this is perfect material for Sherlock to store in the 'JW' room in his mind palace to dissect later. The man has obviously been drinking for a little while, most likely before he got home.

"Now look at me! I try to relate to people and that works right up until they realise army doctor means stitching up screaming men whose intestines are hanging out or they've just had a limb blown off. And if that doesn't bother them then usually actively chasing crime scenes does. Then the ones that actually understand exactly why I chose to enlist and why I do what I do with you end up leaving when they realise I'm prone to having to run off to help with a case or they find something else wrong with how I live my life!". He turns to the side in almost a military move, stiffly continues to think then turns back to his friend to clarify something. "I'm not feeling sorry for myself, I'm not look for pity. Just trying to understand what the hell is happening".

The detective lifts his pale hands from his keyboard and leans back in his seat. "It's understandable that an invalided war veteran would be having issues settling back into civilian life. But that's not what is happing here"

John pokes his tongue into his cheek as he thinks that through. "It isn't?"

"No" Sherlock finishes typing a sentence that he had been writing earlier then looks up. "The women you seem to want to associate with are all idiots".

John purses his lips and waits for further explanation but when none is forthcoming he speaks up. "That's your take on the situation? Woman are idiots?"

"The ones you seem to want to 'get off with' are. If they choose to look at your occupation above who you are as a person and then judge you on that instead then there is only one category for them". When John just frowns, Sherlock sighs in agitation, sits straighter and begins to list things out logically as he does when explaining the facts of a case. "You said you used to be young, fit, a doctor, liked by mothers, courteous and charming. John, you are still all of those things but you feel as though you can't be anymore after all that you've seen and that if you are being left by these women that you must be lacking these attributes. Their stupidity is affecting your understanding of the data presented" he turns his head to the side and adds "although you will find youth less and less in your favour. Perhaps put that one further down the list". John actually smirks at that one. "Perhaps if you stop trying to explain the actions of the inexplicably ignorant you will find that you're all that you need to be already. Or something like that" at this he waves a dismissive hand "I'm not one for motivational talks, I'm just stating the facts".

The blond nods slowly as he gazes towards the kitchen then finishes off the amber liquid he'd been nursing as they spoke. "I just don't know where I'll find someone who wants to be with me not just when we go out places, who can put up with me getting frustrated at various things, who keeps  _me_  interested and let me tell you that's a hard one these days. Someone who I can feel as though I'm looking after and protecting and someone that I can talk to about anything and just be comfortable with ourselves even in silence. I'm telling you, Sherlock, it's practically impossible to find". At this he puts his mug in the kitchen and announces that he is meeting up with Mike or Greg for a pint, whichever wants to come.

Sherlock stays on the couch, thoughts racing. His eyes are wide and flick around lightly as he thinks through what was just said. "Yes" he replies although no one is there. "Yes it is".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd just like to take a moment to thank everyone who has commented, left kudos and subscribed to this story. Your support means a lot :)
> 
> I tried using the present tense this chapter, hopefully it makes a difference as it is something different for my writing, feedback would be useful in this case.


	27. I Ended It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After moving interstate, a strange Christmas period and a few personal issues, I'm back! Hope you enjoy this Molly story set during The Great Game :)

Molly has been pacing outside The Fox for the last ten minutes. It's already around a quarter past six.

After Sherlock had left earlier, still holding those shoes, she had just enough time to pop home and head out to meet Jim like they'd agreed.

But now she has a problem. The more she thinks about what Sherlock said, the more she realises that Jim  _is_ gay. It's just too good to be true that he likes Toby and Glee, they conveniently work together so they can see each other often and they both read Sherlock and John's websites religiously. He's too perfect. But in the end it isn't the fact that he is gay, everyone's different, it's because he lied to her and openly flirted with someone else in front of her when they were meant to have a budding office romance together!

"Hey?" she turns towards the voice coming from the pub doorway. "I thought it was you I could see out the window! If we hurry we can still get our favourite booth. The vegetable lasagna is on special too, it's your pick!"

It's Jim, wearing what he had been in earlier but with a black, casual leather unzipped jacket over the top. The stripe of fluro sitting above his waistband both offends Molly and focuses her on what she needs to say. However, she finds her mouth opening and closing as she wrings her hands together. "Jim" she says simply and stops suddenly, not knowing what to say next.

His expression falls and he slowly steps out of the doorway to let a couple through, he gives them a small half smile in apology for being in the way. He walks over, the usual bounce in his stride almost non-existent. "Any reason we're not going in?" he asks but anyone can tell that he knows what is coming.

Molly's eyes are determined. "Why did you lie to me? I know you did. And you called me lovely, were you lying then too?"

He is very still. "I do think you're lovely. You're so trusting"

Gazing away she doesn't see the odd gleam in his eye that twinkles for a second then is gone. "Look I know I may come across as-as a bit shy sometimes, but I'm not stupid and, and I don't think-"

"-what are you trying to say?" he prompts, this time he seems to be losing his bubbly personality which he always displays.

"-I don't think we should see each other any more" she says in one long stream. From here she gains strength. "I mean, no more dates. We can stay friends and hang out as friends, if you want, if you  _apologise_ , but you don't need to pretend anymore"

"Pretend? Apologise? What are you saying?"

"I know you're" at this she whispers the last word as she watches people walk past " _gay_ ". He drops his head and begins to rub at the back of his neck, seemingly the epitome of someone being found out. "And it's fine, I have gay friends, I don't mind. But we should stop pretending anything is going to come from this more than just friends".

He keeps his head down. "That Sherlock Holmes is as smart as you said he is. He told you, didn't he?" at this he looks up, Molly doesn't know what to make of his expression. "Do you think you're being nice to me by saying we should be just be friends?"

"I am being very understanding!" she is now standing tall, her ponytail running down her proudly held back "You lied to me and hit on someone while I was right there! And, and I'm still offering to be friends even though I should never talk to you again for what you've done!"

Jim shakes his head and looks away.

Molly's mouth droops in indignation. "You left him your number!"

"Molly, I-"

"-so you don't deny it? You just can't-" she wants to turn around and walk off but as she does she stops halfway and turns back "-you just can't use people's feelings like that! Did you just use me so I could introduce you to Sherlock?"

"Molly"

"You did, didn't you?" suddenly it all makes sense. "You only contacted me on my blog after I mentioned him" she accuses, working it all out as she stands there. She lets out a small helpless laugh "I can't believe this. You used me and I let you!"

Jim knows he has to leave. "You're talking like a crazy person, you need to have a think about what you're saying. Molly, I'm leaving now"

She huffs. "Well good! And I'm not going to visit you in IT anymore!"

"Fine" he calls out and begins to walk off when he pauses and shouts out "I'm more of a dog person anyway!" at which a few people turn around and stare.

Molly knows it is childish but she scowls and storms off with a small 'Grrr' under her breath.

The next day she hears that Jim hasn't come into work so she goes against everything she feels is right and puts an entry on her blog asking him to get in contact so she knows he is okay. She doesn't want to argue with anyone and simply leave things like that.

A couple of days later she hears about the pool and suddenly so many more things make sense. It doesn't take much for her to decide to stop posting to her blog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline and idea for this came from Molly's real blog that is online where she has a post that apologises to Jim about their argument and asks him to get in contact. The next day she has a final post saying it was all a lie and she won't be posting anymore.
> 
> Also, drawn from Molly's comment in TRF where she says that they only went on three dates and it was actually her that ended it. I really love that :)


	28. Someone To Watch Over Him

Sitting in the Strangers Room at the Diogenes, Mycroft eyes his arriving guest carefully, knowing all he needs to in around three seconds. Things have been a little strained lately with his brother's flatmate after a bungle with surveillance allowed Sherlock and John to be kidnapped without a trace, it was three hours before the team arrived. They were eventually found tied to separate chairs with a few cuts and bruises but were otherwise unharmed. John had been vocal about the fact that if he had to put up with so much surveillance it should at least come in handy when something  _did_  happen. Three people were fired for the incident.

Mycroft indicates to the chair opposite him. "John, how good of you to make it. Have a seat".

The doctor seems rather unamused. "I was under the impression that I didn't have a choice. Nice touch with the 'Get into the car outside' on the chip and pin machine. Like I didn't already have enough trouble with those things" he mutters.

Mycroft gives him a tight grimace that he seems to be under the impression gives the illusion of noting the others words, however it just comes across as a message to be quiet. John takes a seat.

"So" the government worker continues, making it sound as though this is the real beginning of their conversation "how's Sherlock?"

"Good, he's good" the doctor replies, almost daring the man to spit out the reason he has been called here.

"Working at the moment?" Mycroft queries airily, running a finger along the rim of his glass of brandy as he waits to see if the other will lie.

"Has a funny case that began a few days ago, he won't admit defeat though. He thinks he's got it now"

"Yes" the elder Holmes responds, looking down and swiping a tongue across his lips. He doesn't seem to be agreeing at all. "I've heard reports of some erratic behaviour. Anything you wish to tell me?"

The ex-army medic smirks as they get down to the crux of things. "Well it sounds as though you've got all the information you need already"

Another tight smile, it is a threat although the words are smooth. "As you're already here I'd be much obliged if you could tell me in your own words"

"As I'm here..." John starts with a questioning quirk of his head, pointing out that it isn't really his choice. He exhales a breath and then says honestly "I've been working at the clinic the last few days so I haven't been home too much. I've been keeping up enough with the case, he's mainly been using his homeless network as it's all a bit underground. Hasn't been sleeping, I haven't seen him eat anything although coffee seems to be on the 'okay' list. He stepped out in front of a car yesterday, light bruising, he actually let me look at it. He's with Lestrade now sorting out the paperwork for the case"

"Yes" Mycroft replies simply and glances at his mobile which sits next to him. "John, I'm going to make you an offer. How much money would it take for you to be able to get by without your clinic work?"

"It's not just about the money, Mycroft, I also work there because-"

"-forgive me but you misunderstand" he cuts in "I didn't ask how much they pay you, I have that information already. I'm asking you how much would I need to give you to stick with Sherlock and forget about the clinic".

John clears his throat and then licks his lips and makes a small 'Hmmm' sound. He takes a moment to think through his reply and decides to stick with the clearest message. "Ah,  _no_ "

"No?"

" _No_. I'm not being paid to be a 24 hour babysitter" he is barely keeping his anger in check "I practically am already and I do that for free because  _I_ want to. On top of that my work as a doctor is important to me, I'm trained and I want to practice"

"As long as Sherlock keeps up his habit of stepping out in front of vehicles and sitting his coffee mug next to the acid beaker I hardly think that you'd be giving it away"

"Yes, funny" John says without any humour. "Like I said, I'm already looking out for him. I'm always available for him. I'm with him for most cases, although as a lowly human being I require 'boring' things such as food and sleep so there's a few hours right there that I'm not  _there_  but I'm at the flat. I reply to texts in between patients when I have to and have left to run off to help him more times than my boss would like to know about"

A small frown creases Mycroft's forehead. "And yet he still finds the time to act in an... _unhealthy_  manner"

John lets out a chuckle. "He'd do that whether I'm there or not. You know him better than I do"

"I'm not so sure" and for a moment he looks open and honest and perhaps a little sad. It is quickly replaced by his usual mask.

John sits forward, wanting to make himself clear. "Mycroft, it wouldn't be good for either of us if I was there all the time. It wouldn't be healthy or in any way constructive"

"Hrmm" the man murmurs and tents his fingers in front of his chest, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. "Well. Thank you for coming, John. Let me know if anything untoward comes about"

The doctor pauses, not believing that this is the end of the conversation. He is even a bit bemused. "That's it? You're just going to accept that I'm there for him most of the time?"

"For now. Good day, John"

John stands, understanding a dismissal when he hears one. He's not stupid enough to believe that this is the end of the matter though. "He's been wondering why you've been so quiet lately. Why you haven't been around to tempt him with a case or ask for your access card back again"

"You can tell him I've been busy. Goodbye, John"

As he stands there holding his jacket in one hand, John purses his lips and considers whether to say more or not. After taking a moment he then just nods and sees himself out of the room.

Alone again, Mycroft sighs and taps a fingernail against the rim of his glass as he continues to watch the door that the other has just left through. He has some thinking to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading :)


	29. Just Another Moment in Time

The World's Only Consulting Detective and his blogger are finishing off the last of their meals on an ordinary Wednesday night in a restaurant not too far from the flat which they share together.

"…and then, once Sarah's last patient leaves we all hide in the lunch room. She's calling out for us because Jess the receptionist has turned most of the lights out". At this he pauses to finish off his last forkful of the risotto he's been savoring.

Sherlock watches on with rapt attention, having stopped eating the little that he had ten minutes earlier. A lesser person would buckle under the fierce gaze that he has latched onto his friend before him. His chin is resting on his fingers which are linked in front of his mouth, elbows firmly on the table.

"Hrm" John murmurs around the food, clearly having enjoyed the dish. He's used to the way Sherlock intently watches him so keeps talking, undeterred. " _Then_ , Sarah flicks on the lunch room lights so we all jump out and yell 'Surprise!' and she is, she's so surprised that she  _squeals_!" he breaks down into giggles. "Which makes Jess jump and drop the birthday cake! Yep, the gluten free one that had taken us half of our lunch breaks to try and find!  _So_ , we end up sticking a candle in the top of one of those novelty sized plush germs they have at the practice, right?"

Sherlock nods, keeping his eyes fixed on John as he enjoys the mans happy energy and that something that just is  _John Watson._

"And Dean, you know the new guy? He sneaks behind Jess and he scares her again-heh, and she throws the toy towards Graham"

"Yes" Sherlock nods, inviting him to continue.

"And Dean goes 'Where did that come from anyway?' and Graham picks it up and says, ha, he says 'I don't know, it just  _flu_  over here'!". At this John breaks down into unstoppable giggles, however he manages to get out "It was an  _influenza_ toy!".

Sherlock cracks a smile, not so much at the joke but at the others expression. He watches as John shakes his head with mirth, positively radiating joy. As the doctor keeps laughing, a solitary chuckle escapes Sherlock followed by many as he joins his friend, just enjoying this moment with him.

Soon, though, Angelo steps up to the table. "Can I get you the bill, Sirs?" he asks in a somber tone.

John looks up and even though he's making small, happy noises as he comes down from his amused state, a little frown creases his forehead.

Angelo then snaps out of his act, beaming as he shakes John's arm then barks out embarrassingly loud laughter. "Just kidding! Why would I charge my favourite customers? You eat here free, whenever you want,  _whatever_ you want! Yes?"

"Thank you, Angelo" Sherlock nods with a small smile.

John sucks in a tiny breath when he realises it is a real one, he disguises his reaction by finishing off his beer. The humour must have done the detective some good.

From here the Italian clears their plates and wishes them a good night. But not before hugging each of them.

"Shall we?" Sherlock asks pleasantly, standing and shrugging his coat on.

John stands and stretches while looking out the window to the night outside. There are some people walking past, a lady on her phone, cars driving down the street. They move to the exit together. "So I've finished blabbing on about me, what did you get up to today?"

Sherlock opens the door and holds it so John can casually walk under his arm and out on the footpath. "Well, you know that culture I was going to throw out weeks ago? I found it behind the toaster. The  _colours_ , John…" he begins to explain brightly as the door gently closes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to those who have been leaving comments.
> 
> I'm always happy to hear feedback both positive and constructive. I'm writing out some plans for the next instalments, let me know if there have been any stories/chapters that have stood out to you that you may like more of or any requests :)


	30. An Unexpected Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to chapter 30 already! Thank you to everyone who has been supporting the story so far by reading, leaving kudos, subscribing and/or commenting!
> 
> This is a request from 'Loopy456' more details after the story. Hope this is what you were after!

As John reaches the top of the stairs he is about to call out to see if Sherlock is home when there is a flash of movement next to him at the kitchen doorway. He turns to see Mrs Hudson with her finger up to her lips while she gestures for him to follow her. They silently move into Sherlock's room, leaving the door ajar.

"She wouldn't take no for an answer! Pushed past me at the front door and was up the stairs in an instant!" the landlady stage whispers, she doesn't seem to mind if they are overheard. "I said Sherlock wasn't home, I even told her you weren't here but she insisted on waiting!"

"Who? Who's here Mrs Hudson?" John has gone cold at the thought that it may be none other than The Woman sitting out there. Sherlock had warned him a few weeks ago that if he saw her he was to contact him immediately.

"She's sitting there, demanding tea and saying she'll wait for Sherlock. I need to head out, I'm already twenty minutes late because of her! Can you handle it, John dear?" she pleads as she holds his arm gently and waits for his response.

"Yes, that's fine, thank you for your help Mrs Hudson. Sorry that it's caused you to run late"

She squeezes his arm in relief and releases it. "Don't know what she'll find if she goes for a snoop. I just didn't think it was the sort of person that should be left in the place by herself"

"No" John says, his frown deepening "I don't think she is either". He gathers himself up then walks through the kitchen, stepping into the living area with purpose while their landlady leaves quietly.

There is a person standing near the far window who turns and works her way back to the couch by the far wall, which she now stands in front of.

It is not who John is expecting. It is a lady perhaps a few years younger than Mrs Hudson but not by much. A client? She is in a knee length, a-line, blue-grey coat with a large silver and emerald brooch on the wide lapel. Her shoulder length dark grey hair is raised in a dignified bun and her bright blue eyes take him in carefully. He is about to ask who she is but he'd built himself up to have to deal with Irene Adler and it takes a moment for this to settle in. If he was thinking clearly he would have realised who this is straight away.

"Ah. Doctor Watson, you've arrived home. Is Sherlock far behind?" a direct and confident voice queries.

John purses his lips and replies "Yes, hello. I don't know where he is. Can I help you?"

"You can, I'd like a cup of tea, white, two sugars. I'll wait here" at this she sits herself on the couch and looks around as though she could catch something awful from the state of the place, although she seems to be fairly polite about it.

John stares at her, something is familiar but his mind is too busy trying to calm him down. He lets out a soothing breath. "You came here for a cup of tea?"

"No, I'm having cup of tea  _while_  I'm here. There is a difference" she seems to reassess her interpretation of his level of intelligence. "Surely your cleaner can do a better job than this?" she notes, eyeing the stacks of magazines and the general clutter. "If it was kept tidier then she wouldn't have to turn guests away in shame"

John straightens, left hand opening and closing. "She was turning you away because we weren't home. Also she's not our cleaner, we don't have one"

She appears to bite something back along the lines of 'well, that's obvious', apparently John is very good at reading her. This is when she turns her head to the left towards the door. "Ah, here he is. Late. As usual"

Slowly Sherlock steps into the room, tugging his gloves off with deliberate movements. There is a heavy tension in the room. "John" he greets first, although he hasn't taken his eyes off the guest. He then addresses her in carefully calculated speech, talking at a much slower pace than usual. "How can I be late if your visit is unannounced?"

"I've been trying to see you for months. That's how late you are" she chides, chin lifted and lips pursed. Very much like-

Suddenly it all makes sense to John and he feels like a complete idiot, the realisation hits him as a physical jolt too. This woman looks so much like Sherlock, she would have had similar hair colour before it lightened, her eyes are the same tone as her sons and she too is tall and lithe. The cheekbones are the dead give away but she has Mycroft's neck and lips and the way she's raised her chin and given that pouty grimace is every bit her older son. Oh God, John realises, this woman is equal parts Sherlock and Mycroft. He feels like running and that is coming from a soldier who's seen the battlefield, both here and in Afghanistan.

"I see you've met John" Sherlock says tightly.

"Yes, he was about to make me a cup of tea" she replies as though this is a courtesy she wouldn't expect from her son.

"Only if he wants to"

John twists his head, giving him the look of a curious dog. This is a very different attitude from the man who regularly bellows 'tea!' and expects one to be brought to him. But John is happy to get out of there for a minute. He nods to let his flatmate know that it's fine and leaves for the kitchen.

Standing next to the kettle and waiting as it boils, he thinks it's best to give these two space. He knows that it's a bit of a strange family but it's clear that there has been conflict between the two of them, although Sherlock is holding back on being openly rude.

John returns to the room a few minutes later to find Sherlock tuning his violin by the window closest to the fireplace and Mrs Holmes with a pair of glasses on texting on her phone. He places the tea tray in front of her, it's the set Mrs Hudson had lent them a week ago and is white with little pictures of Great Britain on it. He then prepares her a cup and thinks about making one for himself but believes that would look too much like he was inviting himself into the conversation. Well if there are any conversations that are going to occur, anyway, they're both very quiet. He's about to make Sherlock one but the man waves him away from the tray instead.

When Mrs Holmes has obviously sent what she needs to she puts her phone away, taking her glasses off and placing them in her handbag. She gives John a quick nod of thanks and takes a sip before stating "I'm here in London for the next three days for a charity function that I've been helping to organise. I thought I would take the initiative and drop by as it was clear that you weren't going to come and see me back at the manor".

_Manor,_ John nearly coughs at the way the word is so matter of fact. He's now glad he didn't get his own drink or he may have spluttered it all over himself. The pressure is so thick in the air suffocation was starting to feel like a real possibility. He moves into the kitchen but can hear every word.

"I've been busy, Mother. Which I've made perfectly clear" Sherlock replies, looking down at his tuning pegs.

"Couldn't even see your way clear of visiting at Christmas"

" _Busy_ " he says shortly, making his way to sit in his leather armchair without the bow and begins to absently pluck at the strings.

They then have a ten minute conversation about what Sherlock has missed back in his home town and he explains a little about the work he's been doing recently. Obviously they could speak together but Sherlock doesn't really seem to be enjoying himself. John has spent most of the time cleaning up around the kitchen to give them some space. The one time he's tried to leave to go upstairs Sherlock has shaken his head at his flatmate, unseen. The doctor nods, taking direction and instead keeps cleaning.

Another fifteen minutes later he comes and sits down in his armchair, they had been silent so he thought he should be polite.

Mrs Holmes seems pleased with this development and looks him over again before saying "So, Doctor Watson. What is it like living with my son?". Their visitor is watching him in a very Mycroft way. This all feels very familiar.

"It keeps me busy" he explains, simply.

"My niece tells me you write up Sherlock's cases?"

"Yes, I have a website. Just put up what we've been up to. It's getting fairly popular actually"

"Well, I'm sure that's just what a private detective needs: fame and popularity"

John gives an expression that is polite but lets her know he's not going to be pushed around. "It brings the clients in, something's got to pay for the food and tea. And flat"

"Indeed" she gently places her empty cup on the tray and sits back with a business-like expression. "Don't get me wrong, Doctor Watson. I approve of you documenting my son's work. It is some sort of validation"

"I don't  _need_ validation" Sherlock huffs.

His mother turns to him. "But obviously what John is doing is helping your work, that has to be a good thing. I hope you thank him for it"

Sherlock grumbles a little in his seat, something like 'of course' seems to come out.

"Do you have any siblings, John?"

"An older sister"

"Do you get on?"

"Well enough"

"That's a no then" she picks up one of the Kingston biscuits but holds it instead of taking a bite. "Like my two, can't see eye to eye on anything". Sherlock begins to shift in his seat but she continues. "Does she have any children?"

"Ah, no". He's wondering where this is going.

"Just like mine, unless you have any? But you don't look as though you do". She finally takes a dainty bite of the food in her hand.

"No, apart from our landlady who you've met it's just Sherlock and I here" he states, then a small smile breaks out across his face at an image that flashes up in his mind of a toddler running around and adding chaos to 221b, he hadn't thought that would be possible to add more drama. "I don't think this is the sort of place to bring up children". He thinks of the chemicals, explosions and the pictures of crime scenes that are sometimes all over the walls.

"That's something you've considered then?" she looks aghast at the very idea, a tone a little higher. She runs her eyes over the mess, the stacks of items on the table, a dissection that had been left on the table and the skull on the mantlepiece.

"What?" John begins to backpedal immediately. "No, I- no that's not what I meant" he looks to his friend for help but he seems to be enjoying the fact that John was able to get a rise out of his mother like that. He'll be no help with this then. "No. I just thought that-I got an image. Don't worry". By now he's flushed red with embarrassment.

Sherlock sees it as time to step in, making eye contact with his mother. "If you've finished interrogating my flatmate perhaps you can give me the usual parting lecture and be done with it?"

Her face hardens. "It wouldn't be so predictable, Sherlock, if you actually took heed to my words. Once you actually take my advice I wouldn't have to give it anymore"

"Well why don't we say I get on with ignoring the list you gave me last time?"

Mrs Holmes closes her eyes and takes a calming breath. It looks like it's for show as John can't imagine her raising her voice. "Doctor Watson, perhaps you can make him see reason?"

"With all due respect you're his mother, if you can't then why would I be able to?"

"He seems to like you. I never got to meet Victor his other friend-"

"-you're boring John" Sherlock interrupts quickly, picking up his bow then frowning.

"You've got a problem there, Sherlock, haven't you? You want to drown out my words but you haven't played in front of me since your recital at Aunt Agatha's 80th birthday"

"Well then" he says instead, ignoring those words, although John cracks a smirk and wonders if he's played properly in front of Mycroft since then either. Could be some good blackmail material to seek out, he notes. "I think that's about the extent of our hospitality today" he says rising from his chair, leaving the violin on the leather. "Mycroft is overseas. Won't be available until next week"

"Yes I spoke with Anthea. Wonderful girl. Tell me, are they an item? I find it hard to tell over the phone line"

John watches Sherlock closely and witnesses a mostly suppressed look of amusement on his face. "I don't think-" he seems to reign in what he was going to say and instead says lightly "I don't think they are interested in one another in that way". It seems to be a statement covering up a lot of things John notices but the other doesn't seem to.

"A pity. I wish one of you would settle down"

"Hrm" Sherlock says nodding towards the door.

"I haven't finished talking yet, Sherlock"

"Are you sure?" he replies with a glare.

"You're cruel to your Mummy" she says and it's the first thing that she's spoken there today that isn't very formal sounding.

"Hrm" he repeats.

Mrs Holmes walks over to John, hand raised. He reaches over and shakes it. "Pleasure to meet you, Doctor Watson"

"John, please"

"Hopefully we'll meet again soon, it's high time Sherlock takes a visit to the manor"

"Goodbye, Mother" Sherlock says stiffly. She merely nods at him.

They hear her footsteps down the seventeen steps then the sound of the front door closing.

At this Sherlock jumps across and looks out the window, down onto the street. "She's gone"

"Manor?" John questions with an inquiring smirk.

"Oh, shut up" the other replies, although there is no venom to it. They share a true smile together feeling as though they've both weathered a storm and come through the other side unharmed and somewhat unified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The request was for for more Mummy and John and Sherlock's interaction with her. The first Mummy story on here is chapter 15 if you're interested in going back and refreshing your memory. Thanks for the request.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this and thanks again for the support! This was the longest instalment yet :) Comments are much appreciated!


	31. Access

After an exhausting seven hour meeting Mycroft walks into his government office as the last of the day's light fades. Instantly his head drifts to the side in annoyance as he sees the figure reclining in his chair, feet casually up on the desk. He slams the door shut, trying to keep his temper in check.

"Sherlock, just because you somehow  _can_  break into my office doesn't mean you should or that it's clever" he snaps. "What is so important that you had to do this?". He places his briefcase down on the floor near the wall with a thud. "Then we'll discuss how you didn't set off any alarms".

The younger one just holds up what Mycroft knows to be his own private file on Greg Lestrade that should have been locked away. Mycroft's eyes flick over to his high security filing cabinet to see the drawer rolled out and carelessly left, the lock must have been picked. He watches as his brother swallows the last bite of a biscuit that he found on a saucer on the desk, having been left an untouched from morning tea.

"A PE teacher? Does he know?".

Mycroft just sighs. The top few images are of Mrs. Lestrade out at a café on three separate occasions with the same man. "No, I don't think he does".

Sherlock nods. "Your voyeurism is starting to take on a life of it's own" he notes, then turns the file over in his hands, giving it an in depth look. "Although your filing could be improved. Lestrade isn't in any of these shots, perhaps you should have separate folders for peoples nearest and dearest?"

Mycroft knows that the blood isn't actually boiling in his veins but at this moment he can appreciate the sentiment. He needs to stay focussed. "By the state of 221b I know I shouldn't be lectured by  _you_  on personal paper keeping".

Sherlock is seemingly relaxed, now trying to guess the weight of the thick folder in his right hand. "Nonsense, anything on the living room table below the first centimetre is from March and earlier. Apart from December, that's under the couch and in the pantry. Simple"

"Indeed" Mycroft sits in the chair opposite his usual spot with a sigh. The power play for his proper seat isn't worth the fight. "What is it you want, Sherlock? I've had a long day and am looking forward to a small drink and an early night"

"Well don't let me keep you from your brandy" he eyes the cupboard to his right which he knows to house the crystal set with the alcohol. His eyes are bright, burning with an unasked request.

"I'd prefer the one at home-"

"-twenty years older, smokier flavour-"

"-yes" Mycroft cuts in, just because Sherlock is right doesn't make him any less irritating. "I'll ask once more, what is it you want?"

"Access"

"To?"

Sherlock flicks his head to move his fringe a little. "One of your buildings. Houses old government files. Ones that haven't been entered into the system yet or shouldn't be in the system for various reasons"

Mycroft gives him a hard glare. "That would be the system that you don't have permission to access and shouldn't even know exists?" . He rubs his thumb across his finger tips on his left hand, while appearing to swirl his response around his mouth. "The one that I'd be very disappointed to find you've been repeatedly breaking into?"

Sherlock dismisses it with a wave of his hand. "Yes, that one, but now they're growing suspicious. I need your pass"

"Dare I ask why you need to look around there?"

"Research"

"On?"

"I have reason to believe that a few of the cold cases Lestrade dropped off last week were actually meant to be hushed up but somehow these files slipped through. There is no way that they can be solved when the a large chunk of the evidence is being hidden".

It didn't take Mycroft long to come up with his final decision. "No. But what you can do is give  _me_  the files and I will have someone go into Building 1.04x and then let you know if there is anything of interest".

Sherlock looks as though he's about to throw a tantrum. "But you'll just hush it up!".

Mycroft lifts his head, feeling some triumph for the first time since this conversation began. "Your choice. You can keep trying to solve them with 'a large chunk of the evidence hidden' or you can know in your heart that they are closed"

"But  _I_  wouldn't have solved them" he complains, crossing his arms with a huff.

"But they'd be solved" Mycroft reminds him, trying to tempt him with this fact and drive home it's the only option. "Unless you only want to do this so you can solve it yourself? Not very public spirited of you, in that case"

"Hrm". Sherlock is now looking away, lips pursed.

Mycroft considers the matter settled, he checks the time on his pocket watch and lets it click shut with a type of finality on the situation. "I'll let you know if any suitable cases come up, Sherlock. Hopefully a large case for you soon. I heard about your cataloguing of tobacco ash. Wouldn't want you to get bored, now would we?"

"What do you care?". Mycroft just raised his brows. "You're infuriating" Sherlock spits.

"And once again you've broken into my office. Surely I don't have to keep reminding you how dangerous that is?"

That did it, the man stands. "Well, I must be off, Mycroft. Get one of your lot to pick up the files, I won't be delivering them. But leave it a few days, I want one last attempt to solve them"

"Have a pleasant evening, Sherlock. I was wondering if-". The door slams.

Sherlock leaves the building, his brother's all access card hidden in his pocket.


End file.
